


Silver Serpent

by Metaldragon868



Series: Silver Serpent [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Blood and Gore, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dubious Morality, Emotional Manipulation, Empire-building, Father Figures, Father-Daughter Relationship, Female Harry Potter, Gen, Revenge, Sane Tom Riddle, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-09-21 03:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9530237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metaldragon868/pseuds/Metaldragon868
Summary: When the child of prophecy dies that fateful night, taking her killer with her, thousands weep for their martyr. But 6 years later, the Dark Lord's faithful subjects do the impossible, and resurrect him. But with him, comes the small soul intertwined with his. Seeing the incredible potential within the young girl, Voldemort decides to take Lilith Potter as his one and only heir.





	1. Born in Blood

It was a cold night, that all hallows eve. What started as a peaceful night of ritual and festival, ended in a tragedy that struck a nation. Where once stood a house in Godric's Hollow, now stood only burning ruins. Where once lived a family, now only lays their cold corpses.

It was a night that had been foretold. A night with a destiny. A night that would shape the fates of all those touched by it. It was to be the beginning of the chosen one, and the end of the dark one. The beginning and the end. The oracle had foreseen it. The elder had put his faith in it. And the dark one feared it.

However, there was one problem.

Destiny...was an illusion.

Fate did not truly exist, at least not how they perceived it.

There was no endpoint that had to happen.

No aspect of time that could not be changed.

And nothing was set in stone.

For every time there is a fulfilled prophecy there are ten forgotten and unfulfilled ones.

For every time love conquers, there are twenty when it fails.

For every prayer answered, a hundred fall on deaf ears.

For every man woman and child saved, a thousand more fall.

And so on that night, the loving sacrifice of a mother for her child was strong.

But it wasn't strong enough.

" _6th Anniversary of the Girl-Who-Died's Sacrifice._

_Ministry Plans to make National Holiday"_

Lucius' eyes narrowed as he read the headline for the paper.

_A national holiday? For a child?_ He questioned.

_Not even a child_ He snorted contemptuously.

_She was but a babe when our master struck. I doubt she even did anything other than lie down and die like her insolent mother._

Folding the paper, Lucius got up from his table and made his way through Diagon alley.

_Still, I suppose whatever they did, it was able to kill the master_ He acknowledged.

_...temporarily_ he added.

He ignored the hustle and bustle of the streets as child ran around with their parents, waving their newfangled magical toys, family's smiling and celebrating the "glorious" occasion.

If Lucius was a more sullen fellow, like Severus, he might gripe and groan, whine and mope about how these fools didn't understand. If he was more maniacal and more of a sycophant like Bellatrix, he might grin wildly while thinking about how all these insolent fools would soon know the wrath and power of the master.

But Lucius was none of those things.

He was politician, a strategist, and most of all, the Left Hand of the master.

He might not have been the most loyal of all the servants, or the most depraved, but he never cared. While the rest of his compatriots were running around slaughtering families with reckless glee, he was the one actually working out plans for a new world. While they threw their bodies at their enemies with no regard for their own health, he stuck a knife in their back from the shadows.

And while all the rest of his master's servants ran around in terror and confusion, only to stick their head in the ground and hide, or striking out in anger and without direction, only to get caught, he blended into the shadows, and planned.

The Master had said he was immortal. To most, they believed, but did not know how. But to his most trusted, or valued, he told the secret.

Horcruxes.

A dark and forbidden art, but more importantly, it would work.

In theory, at least.

So while many thought that the Master had truly perished, Lucius and Bellatrix knew the truth. Unfortunately Bella was too...enthusiastic...to be able to rein herself in and hide in the shadows. So while she kicked and screamed in Azkaban, Lucius got to planning.

He used his position in the ministry to discreetly find all sorts of books on the darkest of arts, trying to figure out a way to bring the Master back using these Horcruxes.

_And at long last, the time has come_ He thought grimly.

He stepped into the building in Knockturn Alley, one that was hidden from prying eyes. Nodding to the shopkeeper in acknowledgement, before continuing on to the fireplace, he tossed in the handful of floo powder, and spoke the name. The flames roared a great green, and he stepped in without hesitation. In his wake, they died down and left no trace of his presence behind.

Exiting in a castle located deep within the frozen wilderness of Siberia, far from the rest of the wizarding world, a green inferno flared inside of a large fire pit. When it died down, Lucius was left standing in the ashes.

_I can see they haven't actually properly lit this place yet._ He frowned, whipping his wand out and silently lighting the torches in the room.

_Though, they could have just forgotten I was coming_ He acknowledged as he stepped out of the pit.

Shaking the useless thoughts from his head, Lucius exited the room. Wrapping his coat closer to himself, he whispered out a warming charm to keep out the biting cold of the castle. Despite his efforts, his breath still came out as clouds of mist in the freezing air.

"Bloody idiots, can't properly prepare this place for the master." He grumbled about the lack of any semblance of comfort.

He walked down the empty halls with purpose, his steps clacking loudly in the deathly silence of the castle, only the whistling of the wind to keep him company. By all accounts, it seemed empty and abandoned. He supposed it did make sense, from a pragmatic standpoint, to make it seem that no one was here. If any of them were somehow followed, it would just take them to an empty castle with no evidence of anything. If anything, they might think that they were just interested in the scenery, or were making secretive liaisons with mistresses.

Still, Lucius was a man who enjoyed the comforts of the finer things in life. He wasn't above sacrifice for practicality, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Passing by a window, he noted that the ceremony should be starting soon. The sun was setting quickly, and soon the moonless night would rise.

He stopped before a large wooden door with a silver sigil carved into it. The symbol held a skull with prominent canines and wavy lines radiating out from it, a sword with a prominent crossguard penetrating it through the mouth and exiting out the back, with a snake winding its way down the sword through the mouth of the skull.

The Sigil was already here when they found this place, and all things considered they had decided to make it a sort of unofficial new symbol of death eaters. It wasn't a huge change from the original one, but it had captured their hearts and minds. There was...an otherworldliness to it. As if the symbol itself signified something beyond the mundane, or even beyond the arcane as they knew it.

Something...primordial...almost.

Turning from the door, he looked at the large stone bricks around the door. His eyes roamed for the right one, before spotting it.

A small symbol, similar to the first, had been carved into it. Many of the bricks did, but this one was special. This time it was just an eye with radiating wavy lines. Pressing his hand to the brick, it resisted at first, but eventually surrendered and depressed into the wall slightly. Once it had, Lucius pushed the door open without any further delay.

They had discovered this a while ago. Many of the doors had...codes...that could be used to open them into different areas. If you used the right code, the door would open to the room you wanted to go. Otherwise, the door would simply obey the typical space-time orientation of the castle, and give you entry into another abandoned section.

There was almost no ambient magic radiating from them either. One had to truly extend their senses, or be in the right places, to feel it, meaning that to an uninformed wizard, this place was just an abandoned muggle castle. But once you did feel the magic in the walls, you would realize just how _old_ this place was. Possibly even older than Hogwarts.

But certainly, far more...discrete.

It also seemed to be more functional. Hogwarts may have been styled like a castle, but it lacked the actual architectural defenses of one. This place, however, was a magical fortress made to defend. Against what, they had no idea. There were no records in this place. There were scars, lingering traces of magic, but nothing written in stone telling them what _exactly_ this place was for.

At least nothing yet. They hadn't gone over aspect of the castle yet. It's size was enormous, and was just as a spatially confusing place as Hogwarts. Considering their small numbers, it would be some time before they would be able to discover every secret within its walls.

_But that's fine_ He thought with a ghost of a smirk as he stepped through the door and into the room he had sought. _We found what we were looking for._

_A chamber made for summoning, channeling, and controlling the blackest of arts._

The room was massive, practically a cathedral, with a hole in the roof to allow in the light of the starry night. Unlike the others he had tread through, however, it was not without life. Countless candles were lit around the room, with a large fire pit burning bright with a ghostly blue fire in before a massive pit that took up the center of the room. Numerous groves wound their way from the mouths of several statues of robed men along the walls to the pit in the center.

Throughout the room, several people in black cloaks and robes toiled away at their most important task. While many wore their hoods to hide their face, almost in shame, a few did not. Lucius could see the Notts, Yaxley, and most importantly, Severus.

It was no secret, to Lucius anyways, that Severus had held significant feelings toward the mudblood known as Lily Evans. While Lucius held no love for Mudbloods in general, he couldn't deny that the woman had power and potential. It was almost enough for his pragmatic side to take over and ignore her blood status.

Almost

Still, it was enough to make him at least appreciate that Severus could find quality in the witch, if not her blood.

After the master killed her...Severus wasn't the same for a number of years. He was withdrawn and depressed. It was no great wonder why to Lucius. The others might have thought it was because their master had perished, but that barely factored into Severus's mind.

_I suppose the worst part was that not even her half-blood daughter survived_ He considered.

Severus may have thought himself a good spy, but he wasn't as clever as he thought he was. He was good, quite good compared to most wizards, but he didn't have the same head for deception that Lucius did. There was a reason he was the spymaster for their group.

So he knew of the prophecy, and he knew that Severus had been told by Dumbledore that they would be safe. That the child of prophecy, at least, would live. When she didn't, it crushed him.

But Lucius knew if he played his cards right, he could use this to bring the potion master back into the fold. Truth be told, the only reason he did it was because Severus was a potions master the likes of which hadn't been seen in far too long. There was a certain spark in him, a special something that no one else had. Something in him that no amount of training, of dedication, and time could account for. He could see patterns in the potions, aspects in the basic components of magic in the ingredients he picked that none else could discern. Already, he had invented a handful of new potions, and even a spell or two.

It made Severus invaluable, despite his loyalties. And if they could find a way to inspire him? To put actual passion into his work?

Well, that was the job of a politician, after all.

"Severus." Lucius said neutrally, standing a respectable distance from the potion master at work.

"Lucius." The man drawled out in response. "It's been sometime since you were here.

"Tonight is the pinnacle of all our plans for the past 3 years. I would not miss this for anything." He responded.

"How goes the formula?" Lucius asked, rhetorically more than anything. He knew Severus wouldn't fail them.

Standing up straight from the table holding the instruments of his trade, Severus turned to face the man.

"I actually believe I've improved it." He answered, the pride trickling into his voice.

"Improved it?" Lucius questioned. "This is too important to play with like one of your experiments, Severus. This _needs_ to work. There can be no room for error."

"Indeed. Perhaps I should explain?" Severus defended.

Lucius paused, before nodding in assent.

"The original formula that you had found would simply resurrect our Master as a human. The modified one the master made for himself would make him something more. Correct?" Severus began.

Again, Lucius nodded, wondering where the man was going with this.

"I actually managed to find some notes from several sources, including a few in Germany, Haiti, Africa, and Eastern Asia that helped put together some of the master's other notes. It still wasn't complete, however, it was missing a critical piece." He continued, the smallest of smiles crawling up his pale face.

"Then, I found it. Here, in this castle. In this room, in fact. The missing piece."

"Severus, I know how much this subject means to you, but please, do not test my patience." Lucius warned, growing tired of this.

"Put simply, it is the formula for the perfect being. A perfect, fully formed, Homunculus." He finished.

"A homunculus?" Lucius questioned. He didn't know too much on the subject, only that most were flawed, weak, or abominations.

"A _perfect_ homunculus. It required much of the original plan the master had for his body, but with several critical tweaks. It is as close to immortality as I could find." He explained.

"Really?" Lucius consider, now very intrigued by these possibilities.

"However." Severus interrupted Lucius's thought process.

"I do not recommend this as a standard practice. The conditions needed for this are both bizarre and specific. Survival is not guaranteed, and the price is steep." Severus explained grimly.

"Still, the Master has passed the most arduous of tasks. The rest is up to us, and his own strength. Something the Master has no shortage of." He finished.

"True enough." Lucius conceded.

"But keep in mind, if this fails, it's on your head. Your usefulness only extends so far." Lucius warned with sharp eyes.

"Understood." Severus nodded, suppressing his fear.

"Good." Lucius nodded, "How soon can we begin?"

"Momentarily." Severus answered.

Lucius gave a curt nod again, before walking off to see Yaxley.

"Yaxley." He began.

"Lucius." He responded with a grimace.

He never really liked Yaxley. Thought he was a bit too fanatical in his hatred, not enough practicality to adapt and overcome. Still, he wasn't incompetent, just a bit of a loose cannon.

"I trust you gathered everything as instructed?" Lucius questioned.

"Of course." He said with a predatory grin. "All pure, and all untainted."

"Good." Lucius nodded.

_Honestly, Bellatrix would have been a better fit for the job. Unfortunately, she is currently in Azkaban thanks to her fanatical devotion to the master._ Lucius internally groaned.

Turning away, Lucius continued his rounds, making sure every step in the process was just so. He made sure every rune was inscribed just right. That every ingredient was in the right place and of the right quality. He made sure the critical component was just as Yaxley said.

Finally, when he was done, he made his way back to the center of the chamber. He watched as everyone applied their finishing touches, absorbed in their work. As he looked up and saw the stars high in the night sky, he muttered a quick tempus spell to be sure of the time.

Nodding grimly in anticipation and satisfaction, he dismissed the spell, before clacking his cane against the hard stone ground loudly three times. The sound rang out through the cavernous room, drawing the attention of all to him.

"My comrades…"He began dramatically, a spell amplifying his voice for all to hear without him having to strain it.

"I believe we are ready to begin." He finished,

And with those words, everyone jumped into action and finished what they were doing. They got dressed up, enshrouding themselves in dark robes and donning their masks as death eaters. Severus returned, having introduced the formula he had made to the repositories as late as possible to ensure it's freshness. The candles were blown out with several silent spells, leaving nothing but the eerie blue flame in the center lighting the room.

They stood in a silent semi-circle, surrounding the pit and the fire, with Lucius in the center. He stepped forward, towards the fire, before stopping at the first in the sets of runic arrays. He raised his cane before pressing it into a tile on the ground. Just like the brick, it resisted for a moment, before giving in and depressing into the ground with a _click_.

The click led into a series of gears moving with a heavy and rumbling sound. The feel of magic throughout the castle being activated and swirling around in anticipation and preparation. They heard the sound of something opening with a large _Clunk_ , when it happened.

Red poured from the mouths of the six statues.

It started as a trickle, before growing into a steady stream. It wound it's way through all the troughs, before finally ending as it filled the pit with blood.

The blood of 343 various animals, magical creatures, and pureblood wizards and witches. All virgins, and all in the proper and specific amounts.

As the red blood of the sacrifices poured into the large pit. A black, inky, substance trickled in, mixing in with the red blood, before being followed by a luminescent green one. When it finally mixed inside the pool, Lucius knew it was time.

He slammed his cane against the ground loudly, whilst channeling his magic through it, and into the runic array beneath him. Following his lead, the rest of the 13 death eaters present kneeled and put their hands on the array and channeled their magic into it as well. Under their power, the arrays all lit up in a blue matching the ghostly fire before them. Once the arrays lit up, so too did the blood glow an ominus red laced with black with green steam rising from it's surface. Once the blood itself lit up, it revealed that the troughs had also been arranged in another array within the one they had carved themselves.

By this point the magic in the air was practically tangible. A mystic wind started from the pressure of it all, causing their cloaks to billow. The glowing arrays began to ring loudly as the fire began to flare. Suddenly, arcs of electricity shot out from the fire, hitting the walls and floor around them. And yet, they did not flinch. Their mission too important, their dedication too resolute.

Then, just as it had started, the crackling lightning died down. The glowing faded, and the ringing stopped.

The Death Eaters stopped, looking at each other worriedly, wondering if it had worked.

Was this supposed to happen?

Had they done something wrong?

Had they lost their master forever?

Just as these doubts began to surface into murmurs, they were stopped by the sound of bubbles popping. They looked to the source and found the pool of blood was bubbling.

Suddenly a hand shot out of the pool, hitting the stone tile floor with a wet _smack_.

It was joined soon by another, both working together to pull a body out of the pool. A head broke the surface, gasping for air, before the rest of his body followed suit. Soon enough, a man stood before them, naked as the day he was born and covered from head to toe in a thick coat of blood.

His eyes were closed as his head was tilted to the sky, one quickly becoming overcast, and he simply breathed for a minute. He looked down, and they all but gasped in shock as they opened his eyes.

The man was fairly tall, probably over two meters, with chin length hair and a muscular and well toned body. His face was handsome and in line with someone in their early-mid thirties or late twenties. But that wasn't what was so shocking.

It was his oh so familiar blood red eyes that shook them to the core.

"M-my lord?" One death eater stuttered out.

The man glanced at the cultist in question, looking him over for a minute, as if measure his worth, before finally giving a smirk they knew all too well.

"Rise. Your lord has returned."

And with those words, a pressure was lifted. They all stood before their lord, rejoicing in the fact it had worked.

"My lord, it is good to see you well again." One said

"With you, now we can make those mudbloods tremble in fear!" Another declared.

"Oh Merlin, truly today is a blessed day!" more rejoiced.

"My lord." Lucius began, internally pleased that the plan had gone off without a hitch, but realizing this was but a step on the path to ultimate victory.

Stepping forward with a cloak and towel he had thought to bring with him, he presented them to the master.

"Thank you, Lucius." Voldemort said, a smirk still on his face.

"I trust the plan went off without a hitch?" He asked as he wiped the blood from his face and wrapped the cloak around him.

"Severus found some...modifications...to make to the formula you gave us." Lucius answered.

"I can see that." He mused as he pulled on some of the strands of his newfound hair. "To be honest, I had missed having hair."

"Still, are you sure this body is fit for one such as me?" He inquired.

"Well, given the fact you appear to be back in the prime of your life, I'd say the results speak for themselves." Severus commented.

Lucius shot him a sharp glare, but Voldemort simply laughed.

"Quite right, Severus, quite right." He chuckled good naturedly.

"My...lord?" Lucius questioned, looking at his master strangely. Voldemort was rarely so...jovial.

"Lucius, my Left Hand, I have just conquered death itself!" He declared. "Truly a feat worthy of celebration!"

Something that caused a round of cheers among the small group in honor of their master.

"Perhaps...but I am still concerned about our comrades scattered and imprisoned." Lucius cautioned

"Truly? Who?" Voldemort asked, his interest now piqued by current events.

"Bellatrix, most importantly." Lucius said, getting to the heart of the matter.

"I see…" Voldemort frowned, growing serious at the news that his Right Hand had been imprisoned.

"I suppose I should not be surprised. She never was one for tact." He sighed, wiping the rest of the blood from his face, revealing the pale grey ashen skin underneath.

As they spoke, they began to hear the rumblings of thunder in the distance.

"How long have I been dead?" Voldemort asked, finally.

"Six years to the day. Possibly to the minute." Lucius answered

"Six years?" The master mused, wiping the rest of the blood from his hands and arms.

"What has happened while I was gone?" He asked.

"For the most part, nothing special. Cornelius fudge is the Minister, a useless fool who practically eats out of my hand." Lucius sneered.

"Is he sympathetic to our cause?" Voldemort asked

"He's a weak coward who will either bow or panic in reaction to anything he perceives to be a threat." Lucius explained.

Voldemort hummed in thought, considering how he could use this to his advantage.

"Severus? What has happened with Dumbledore?" Voldemort inquired.

"The old man hired me as a potions teacher for the school, either out of genuine pity or to keep a close eye on me. Most likely the later. Still, he has become somewhat distraught over the death of the girl in the prophecy." Severus answered.

"Has he now?" Voldemort said with a raised brow, his black hair still glistening with red blood.

"Speaking of which, my Lord, what...happened...that night?" One of the others asked.

Lucius was unable to suppress a sigh at the man's lack of tact and impatience. Fortunately it was drowned out by the ever rising sounds of rolling thunder.

"A good question." Voldemort agreed, nonetheless, no doubt still in a good mood from his resurrection and triumph over death.

"When I struck the girl with the killing curse, her mother must have performed a kind of blood sacrifice ritual, using her own soul. While it wasn't enough to protect the girl, it was still enough to rebound the spell and destroy my body." He explained with a pensive look, as if he himself was still analyzing what exactly happened.

"What happened to the girl?" Another asked.

Their master turned to look at the woman who asked, and opened his mouth to answer.

_**BOOM!** _

Whatever he was to say was drowned out by the deafening blast of thunder as a bolt of lightning streaked down from the sky and collided with the pool of blood. The massive explosion of light and sound stunned them, sending them reeling from sensory overload.

As Lucius looked up, he saw the Master standing before the pool, looking past the cloud of steam rising from it. As he stared intently through the fog, Lucius used his cane to help himself to his feet.

"M-my lord?" Lucius inquired, wondering what was wrong.

He was stopped when Voldemort curtly raised his hand up, signalling for silence.

So he stopped and watched, waiting for whatever his lord knew would happen to happen.

And then it did.

First, he heard the faint sound of bubbles rising up from the depths of the pool over the loud sounds of people regaining their senses. Then, he saw a hand, small and lithe, pop out from the pool and find purchase on the stone tile floor. Before it could do anything more, Voldemort bent down and grabbed hold of the hand in a tight grip, and effortlessly pulled the being from the pool and threw them to the center of the floor in front of him. From there, the identity of the being was clear as day.

It was a girl.

A young girl, no older then 7, no younger than 4. While mostly androgynous at this age, the lack of male genitalia was a rather obvious giveaway for her. Like their master, she was covered from head to toe in a thick coat of blood. Unlike, the master, however, there was no confidence or pride in her form.

Instead, she cowered on the ground, her face twisted in confusion and fear. She was lost, scared, and had no idea why she was here, or even where "here" was. It was plain to see in her eyes.

Her emerald green eyes. Behind him he could hear Severus gasp in shock about something. Lucius ignored it as he focused on those eyes of her. The green was so bright as to almost be considered luminescent. At first glance, the rest of her eyes seemed normal, but upon further analysis, Lucius could see her scalera was some kind of off white with a metalic sheen.

Before he could think further on the matter, the girl was surrounded by the rest of the Death Eaters.

"My lord!" one shouted, "Who is this girl? What shall we do with her?"

His master, however, refrained from responding for a moment. Instead, he looked at the girl. Studying her with his own pair of bright blood red eyes. Lucius could see the gears turning in his master's head as he thought about who this girl is and what she means.

"I believe…" He began, stepping closer to the girl as he leaned closer to her face. "That this is Lilith Potter."

"The girl who "killed" me."

At once, the Death Eaters surrounding her drew their wands, aiming them at the small girl with obvious intent to kill.

But they were stopped by their master's hand.

"Are you, in fact, Lilith Potter?" He asked the girl, ignoring his underlings.

"I-I-I d-don't k-know." She stuttered in paralyzing fear.

"Perhaps the curse purged your memories?" He muttered quietly to himself.

"My Lord?" Nott raised his voice.

The Master silently looked up at the man, daring him to continue.

"What do you plan to do with the Half-blood?" He asked.

"Perhaps leave her burning disemboweled corpse in front of the Ministry to signify his return?" Yaxley suggested.

There were snickers and murmurs of agreement within the circle, whilst the girl seemed to curl further in on herself, tears beginning to streak down her cheeks.

_And this is the problem with dealing with fanatics_ Lucius all but sighed, _All caught up in the fervor of their "cause", and not bothering to think about the consequences._

"No." Voldemort's voice rang out, creating a telling silence in it's wake.

"No, I think I have much use for this girl." He murmured. "I see now that I was a fool before. Everything feels so much clearer now."

"I have decided." He began, standing up within the the crowd. "This girl…"

"She shall be my heir." Voldemort declared.

There was a tremulous pause that hung in the air after his words.

Then finally, a voice broke the silence.

"A-are you mad?!" Yaxley finally cried.

"Oh?" Voldemort responded in feigned interest.

"She's a filthy half blood! The child of those who opposed you, the one who killed you!" He roared.

"Is that all?" He asked with false invitation.

"L-look at her. She's a weak child, trembling on the ground in fear." Sir Crabbe said, confidence growing.

_Are the sycophants growing a spine?_ Lucius thought, slightly surprised at their defiance.

_Or have they already forgotten how to properly fear him?_

As Sir Goyle said, "A-and she's such a small and ugly thing!", he realized it was most likely the latter.

Lucius himself was somewhat dubious of the Master's declaration, but he knew him well enough to know there was some kind of logic behind this. Something that would fit into his grand plan. Either that, or it was some kind of sadistic whim. Either way, questioning him on something he was so sure about was a sure way to invite pain and fear onto yourself.

"So you would question the will of your master?" Voldemort questioned with an innocuous look.

"How do we even know if you're really out master?" Sir Goyle accused.

"Yeah, maybe Severus mucked up the ritual and brought back something else instead!" Yaxley agreed.

"Are you mad, Yaxley? This our Lord!" Sir Nott said.

"Now now, Mr. Nott, no need for that." Voldemort admonished, stepping up to the brute of a man.

"So, Yaxley, you doubt me?" He said as he seemed to tower over the man.

"I-I just think maybe we need to rethink-" He began to try to defend himself, fear sinking into his bones at Voldemort's proximity.

"So you want proof of who I am, is that it?" The Master continued innocently.

"No, I just-"

"Give me your arm." Voldemort said calmly.

"...W-what?"

"Give me your arm." Voldemort repeated slowly.

"B-but you don't have your wand." Yaxley weakly argued.

At this Voldemort gave the man a serene smile. "Do not think, _obey_."

"Y-yes my lord." Yaxley conceded, extending the arm with the dark mark on it towards the master.

Lucius looked on with interest, curious as to whether he'd be entertained or disturbed.

Voldemort took the brute's hand in one of his own arms, gripping the forearm lightly while running his right hand gently over the dark mark.

"You doubted my abilities without a wand, yes? Doubted that I was your lord and master? If even for only a moment." Voldemort began, gazing at the man's hand intently.

"No, I just-"

"Ah! Don't lie to me, Yaxley." Voldemort interrupted.

"I-I...yes, my lord." He conceded. "I doubted you."

The master nodded silently in acknowledgement, seemingly pleased at his confession.

"Well, allow me to...dispel such doubts." Voldemort said.

He rested his hand a few inches above Yaxley's and then gestured downwards. There seemed to be a pulse of magic. Then?

_Crack_

"Ahhh!" Yaxley roared in pain as his index finger was bent backwards. Bending below his hand from the force of a silent wandless banishing spell.

But Lord Voldemort gave no external reaction. Instead, he only moved his hand slightly and did it again, and again, and again.

With each pulse, a new finger was bent beyond it's limits with a painful crack and a new roar of agony. Soon Yaxley was on his knees, clutching the arm in his master's grasp with his free one. With each finger broken, Lucius could see the crowd of "hardened" death eaters flinch at the sight of direct physical damage. It was rare, in the wizarding world, for one to suffer physical damage. Most spells would either cleanly end or stun you, rarely mangling the body in the manner that Voldemort was doing right now. Even the Cruciatus curse, while tormenting, rarely gave any external injuries.

And all the while, Lucius could see the smile on Voldemort remain serene and passive.

"I can see that my absence has temporarily blinded you, Yaxley." Voldemort said as he finally released Yaxley's hand, having run out of fingers and bones in the hand to break.

Yaxley cradled the mangled appendage in his chest, trying to do whatever he could to lessen the pain.

"Perhaps…" The master began, extending a hand out to grasp the side of Yaxley's masked head to make him look him in the eye.

"...Making the blindness more permanent will allow you to truly see?" He said as a suggestion as he held a hand in front of Yaxley's mask.

"M-my lord, please." Yaxley begged

"Now now, I'm doing this for your own good." Voldemort smiled.

And with that, he pushed his hand forwards, before clenching, curling, and twisting it. As he did, Yaxley began to scream in agony. Soon blood began to pour out from the edges of his mask. All the while Voldemort's grin seemed to take on that mad edge it did whenever he found himself immersed in expressing his absolute power over another.

Finally, he released the man, who soon curled up upon himself and whimpered in pain.

"So, does anyone else have any objections?" He asked, "Crabbe, Goyle?"

"N-no, my Lord. Your wish is our command." They answered.

"Good, good." He smiled, folding his hands behind his back.

"Now then," He began, turning back to the stunned and frightened girl on the ground, "Take Yaxley and leave us."

"Y-yes my lord." They stammered as they picked up the broken man and leaving the room.

I made to leave as well when I was halted by his voice.

"Lucius, Severus, you are to remain." He commanded.

I paused, momentarily surprised that he would include Severus, but acknowledging it as fact and moving on.

Turning back to our master, I was surprised to see him holding the child in his arms with something that almost resembled genuine caring.

"I believe we have much to discuss, but let's see if we can't take this conversation somewhere more...comfortable, shall we?"


	2. Die in Fire

"So…" Lucius began

"You are quite certain that this is Lilith Potter?" He asked tentatively.

"It is the only conclusion that makes sense," Voldemort responded in a concerned manner, his lips pursed, brow furrowed, and rubbing his bare chin in thought.

Before them lay the girl, exhausted by the events earlier today, and now sleeping on a transfigured bed, wrapped in blankets to shield her from the cold.

"Could you elaborate on that?" Severus asked distractedly, mesmerized by the girl in front of him.

Nodding quietly while looking at the girl, he thought of where to start.

"...When I hit the girl with the killing curse, and it rebounded back at me, it also affected the girl. When it ripped out my soul from my body, it did the same to hers. Since it was all done with the same spell and done so close together, it...bound us together before flinging us into un-life." He explained carefully, seemingly trying to recall what specifically happened.

"Bound you together?" Severus inquired, turning from the girl for a moment in interest.

"Yes. The details are a bit fuzzy, considering I was little more than a shade at the time, but yes." He answered pensively. "And I believe when you enacted the ritual to bring me back, she was pulled back with me."

"But why come back as a girl and not the baby she was when she perished?" Severus inquired.

"I have no answer for that. All this is such extreme and bizarre territory that there has never been anything close to a precedent for it. Perhaps her new existence was molded by my own perception and knowledge? Maybe some tether in the rest of the world caused her to age with it?" Voldemort surmised.

"You don't suppose...that being bound together had an impact on you, did it?" Severus hesitantly put forward.

At this, Voldemort's frown seemed to deepen. "What do you mean?"

"Just that by being bound together for so long, the two of you might have impacted on another's existence. She might have, for lack of a better term, 'rubbed off on you'" Severus explained.

"...And you think she may have made me soft?" He guessed with a dangerous scowl.

"Doubtful." Lucius interrupted, speaking up again.

"Children at the age she was when she died are self-centered, narcissistic, and occasionally sadistic. They don't actually learn the greater majority of their morals until much later in life." He explained.

"Speaking from personal experience Lucius?" Severus attempted to goad.

"Yes, actually. Draco was quite the little devil when he was younger. Drove me and Narissa quite mad." Lucius countered.

"Still does." He sighed.

"Lucius does have a point, however. She had about as much impact as a mouse colliding with an elephant. Her young soul had nothing to really affect my own." Voldemort added.

"So why take her as your heir?" Lucius asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

He knew his master had a good reason, and he wanted to know what it was.

"Can the two of you not feel it? The sheer level of power within her?" Voldemort questioned.

The two of them blinked in surprise, not knowing what their master was talking about. Lucius decided to take some initiative and placed a hand on the sleeping girl's head while pouring some magic into her in the effort to try and detect her magical core. What he found made him gasp out in surprise.

"By Merlin." He cursed under his breath

"Lucius?" Severus inquired with a quirked brow.

"Her magical core is almost as large as my own." Lucius finally said.

A revelation that caused Severus to blink in surprise as well.

It was common knowledge that one's magical core started small and grew as they aged. For the most part, it tended to match their physical growth. This continued until they reached physical maturity, at which point their magical core would still continue to grow, if at a slower rate, until the day they died.

In general, a child's magical core was several times smaller than one of an average adult. Lucius himself actually had a slightly larger core than an average wizard. Nothing compared to Lord Voldemort's monstrous one, but very little could truly compare to his power.

But this girl's core was already comparable to a full grown adult's. If it was this powerful as a child, it was well within her potential to match, or even surpass, their master by the time she reached physical maturity.

"But that is not all." The master continued, pulling them from their thoughts.

"As you can see…" He began, wiping some of the blood from her face, and revealing the pale ashen grey skin beneath. "She is like me now."

"Another perfect Homunculus…" Severus muttered in suppressed awe.

"She's as close to perfect as anything other than me can get." Voldemort reasoned as he wiped more blood from her pale face

"And near as I can tell, the only thing worthy to be my heir." He finished, looking back towards the other men in the room.

"But why even bother with an heir? Was your goal not to become immortal? Did you not succeed?" Lucius asked, genuinely curious why. His master certainly never seemed interested in children before.

"...While you may consider what happened on All Hallow's Eve to be a success, I consider it a dangerous warning." The Master said after a moment in thought to consider how to approach the question.

"True, I did recover from something that should have killed me, but it shouldn't have happened in the first place. It just showed me that I cannot predict everything. Magic is still wild, dangerous, and unknown. Reality a cruel and unpredictable beast. I cannot guarantee with absolute certainty that something as unexpected as that night will not occur again." He explained.

"And I cannot guarantee that it will not end me for good next time." he finished with a grim look.

"But what about the Horcruxes?" Lucius calmly brought up with concern.

"They are good, but they are not without flaw. It is not impossible for someone to manage to eliminate them all before killing me. Difficult and suicidal? Yes. Impossible? No." He answered.

"And I doubt that the body of this "perfect Homunculus" that you have given me, Severus, is impervious to harm either?" Voldemort asked,

"N-no, my lord. While it is much stronger and more durable than a human's body, to the point of near immortality, it is not impossible to kill." Severus said hesitantly, not wanting to disappoint his master.

Steepling his hands together and looking down at the girl with a serious expression, the Master continued.

"I had been both arrogant and ignorant, assuming I had bested death and all machinations of reality. That I had outsmarted god. When it was challenged, I sought to end the challenge as quickly as possible without properly thinking things through. Now I feel my mind has been cleared. I can no longer make the same brazen assumptions I had in the past. I can take no chances." He mused externally.

"I must expect the best, and prepare for the worst. I have not become immortal, simply much more difficult to kill than an ordinary man. Should something unthinkable happen, I need to preserve my immortality in another form. One tested by time." He explained.

"You mean to leave a legacy?" Lucius deduced.

"I had always meant to leave a legacy, of a sort. Before it was simply a world I ruled under my indisputable control. Now, I want to make sure that should I pass, I will never be forgotten." He answered with a resolute look.

"I shall build an empire the likes the wizarding world has never seen. My name shall become known throughout the lands, spoken with reverence and trepidation. I shall not only be feared, but respected. Perhaps even loved." The Master expounded

"And she…" He continued, turning back to the girl, cupping the pale cheek of the sleeping girl.

"She shall be witness to all of it, as my heir. My most powerful weapon, and most treasured legacy." he stated.

"Severus," Voldemort said, suddenly switching tone into a more authoritative one.

"Master?" Severus jolted.

"I brought you here because I believe with this, I have your complete loyalty." Their master asserted.

Severus made to speak, but was interrupted again.

"I know of how you felt about Lily Potter. She was one of the only things you actually cared about in our cold, dead, heart. You're not sure who to blame for her death, are you?"

"...My Lord..." Severus tried to defend, searching for the right way to answer.

Lie, and Voldemort might kill him, or otherwise make his existence a painful hell. Tell the truth, and Voldemort might not like what he hears, leading to much the same response.

"Do you hate me for killing Lily?" Their Lord continued, prying the wound open further.

Severus stammered again, intimidated by his sheer presence of force, as well as the way he was backing him into a corner with no right answer.

"Does some part of you want to take the brat and run off to a cottage somewhere? Raise her as your own daughter you wished you had with that woman?"

"Or maybe you'd plough her like you wished you did to her mother? Sate your appetite on the next best thing?" Voldemort antagonized.

Severus backed up, his face horrified while an embarrassed blush grew upon his face, all the while their master stepped closer, drawing into his personal space like a viper ready to strike, all with a look of such intensity even Lucius began to feel its pressure upon him.

"Well Severus? Do you hate me? Want to rebel against me? Take the girl for yourself?" The master said with a final jab at Severus' chest, backing him up against a wall.

"I-I-I could never love a-a-a m-mudblood like her." Severus lied through his teeth, reciting the party line.

And with his words, Voldemort startled them all by suddenly leaning back away from Severus and letting out a harsh burst of laughter.

"Oh Severus," He began, gathering his wits again, "You may be able to be a decent spy, but truly your heart will always be your greatest weakness."

"More to the point," He grinned, straightening up, "I don't actually hate Lily Potter."

Severus jolted in surprise, almost as if he had been physically struck by his words. Even Lucius raised an inquisitive brow at where their master was going with this.

"You'll find, Severus, I don't hate mudbloods, muggleborns, or whatever the bloody hell you want to call them quite as much as I'd have people believe." He explained.

"Y-you don't, my lord?" Severus inquired.

"No," He shrugged, "I'm something of an equal opportunity person."

"I don't rightly care where the power comes from, power is power. There is no good and evil, only people with power and what they do with it." He commented, "Whining about whether it comes from a pureblood wizard or a muggleborn witch is beneath someone like me."

"B-but she stood in your way, she managed to...defeat...you" He stammered.

"She managed to find a way to outwit me, if only for a time, an action not many can boast." He admitted. "Using such dark magic to use my own habits against me is cunning and tenacity that I can't help but respect."

"You...respect her?" Lucius said after a moment, Severus too stunned to speak.

"Indeed. After all, it was her act of black magic that managed to kill me, and take me off the scene for several years. Not the efforts of Dumbledore, the deluded fool." He explained.

"So...do you actually plan on raising the girl?" Lucius asked

"Yes. I want to ensure her loyalty to me. It will be absolute and unquestionable. I could use potions or spells to ensorcell her, but they could all be countered and ultimately fail. No." He answered.

"Instead, I shall personally instruct her. She is still young and malleable. I will shape her into being my heir, in my own way, and without anyone I don't trust completely influencing her. She's like a blank page, and I intend to be the only mark left on it." Voldemort explained. "She shall be completely indoctrinated to my views."

"You know...most people would call that 'Raising her as my daughter'" Lucius drily commented, something his lord responded to with a flat glare.

Turning back to the Severus, who appeared to be reworking his entire world views, Voldemort spoke up again.

"Severus." He said, drawing the man's his attention.

"My lord?" Severus answered his master's call.

"As I said, I believe this should ensure your complete loyalty. I am well aware of your feelings toward Lily, and this is the last of her legacy. Rest assured, she will be safe in my hands, not the old fool's." Voldemort explained. "He should have no more hold over you."

"Unless there's something you wanted to tell me?" He challenged.

Severus paused as he realized what his supposed master was saying. Dumbledore used his own guilt about Lily to force him to help them, but now...

_Now the last remnant of Lily rests in the Master's hands_ Severus realized, _And the only way to protect her, would be to commit to him._

"...No, master. you are correct." Severus admitted simply.

"Good." Their master said simply with nod.

"You and Lucius leave the room. I have some things to discuss with my new charge." Voldemort commanded.

"Yes my lord." Lucius and Severus responded, the former with more respect and the latter with more fear.

Once the two had walked out of the large impromptu bedroom, Voldemort used the wand gifted to him from his Left Hand to cast several silent privacy wards to ensure discretion. Turning to the sleeping girl behind him, he steeled himself as he prepared to do something he had never really prepared himself to deal with.

Talking with a small, no doubt frightened and confused, little girl.

* * *

 

**Tom pov**

Voldemort, or as he begun to think of himself ever since his rebirth, Tom Riddle, looked down at the girl expectantly as she stirred, slowly coming back the waking world. While he had lifted the spell keeping her asleep from her mind, she still seemed to be taking her time actually rousing from it.

Finally, her emerald eyes fluttered open. A tired lack of awareness filling them. Soon, however, they flitted to his position at her side.

"F-father?" She asked, unsure of herself, but recognition flashing in her eyes.

"Father?" Tom questioned with a quirked brow, "Where did you get that impression?"

"I-I don't know. Just...you seem familiar. A-and I just have a kind of feeling about you." She stammered.

"Do you now?" He continued, narrowing his eyes as his mind raced with possibilities.

_Perhaps, thanks to the way our souls melded for 6 years, my soul left an imprint of some sort on her own? Maybe it's grown...accustomed...to my own soul's presence._ He considered.

"A-are you my father?" She asked in his silence.

He considered how to answer this. He could play into this illusion and lie. Or he could tell the truth and work from there.

_Well...dealing with this now, while she's young, weak, and malleable, would be preferable to dealing with this when she's older and can actually stand against me in some small way._ He all but sighed.

"...No...not originally, at least." he finally answered.

"What?" She said with a curious tilt of her head.

"I am not your original father. But, from this day forth, you are my charge." He explained.

"Oh…" She said sadly.

"Do you not remember your original father?" he asked, curious about why she was taking this how she was.

"No." She shook her head.

"What about your mother?" He continued, prodding even further.

At this, she seemed to scrunch her face up in thought.

"I...maybe?" She said with uncertainty.

"Well, in that case, I'm going to be upfront with you." He announced. "I'd rather get this out of the way first."

"I killed your mother." He declared to the girl.

"Oh…" she said simply.

"Ok."

Tom blinked. This did not match any of his expectations. He thought she would kick and scream. Perhaps run from him, try to escape. Maybe even cry.

Not...this.

"I'm sorry, what?" He questioned.

"What?" She responded, not understanding the question.

"I expected you to be more...emotional." He expressed, "and defiant."

"Oh…" she said, looking down at the floor again. "Sorry."

"There's nothing wrong with it. It's just...usually people are more concerned about their mothers." Tom said in an effort to...comfort...her.

The girl before him shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, I just don't really feel anything about that. I can't remember much about her."

_Perhaps it's shock?_ He considered.

"So what _do_ you remember about your mother?" He asked.

"Just...she was nice, and warm, and gave me hugs. Then one day she went out to hunt and never came back. They said she was dead, but…" She trailed off

"That...that doesn't make any sense." Tom began, thrown off by the memory.

"I killed your mother in front of you, before I killed you too. Do you remember that? Your death?" He asked

A mystery had been placed before him, one that felt he _needed_ to solve. None of this made any sense, none of the girl's memories seemed to line of up what actually happened. And yet, he was _sure_ that this was Lilith Potter. The girl he killed, and who killed him in return.

"My…death…" She said in a hollow voice, as if being taken by memories of her traumatic past.

"I-I remember pain. So much pain." She began

"I remember ripping and tearing. I remember her screaming out my name. _She_ killed me. It's her fault. She left me to die." The girl continued, becoming lost in her pain.

She drew in upon herself, curling up into a ball. Her hands tightening against her skin, straining against the pale flesh they clawed into it.

"I remember the rip and tear meat and mind. The rending of body and bone. The destruction of skin and sanity." She shivered, almost like she was in a trance. "The scent of blood fear and piss filling the air as I drowned in my own fluids"

"Then there was the chanting. The chanting and burning. Bound and restrained, mocked and taunted, I was deemed an abomination and slain in their lord's name." She said, her tone becoming entrancing and ethereal.

"The fire crept upon my body, melting my skin and boiling my blood. The fumes filled my lungs, choking me, poisoning me, from the inside out."

"There was always so much pain, so much fear and agony. Why me? Why was it always me? What had I done? Why did I deserve this?" She finished, whispering hollow and desperate questions to no one in particular.

"Lilith?" A voice said, trying to rouse her from her trance.

"Lilith!" It shouted, shaking her body.

"Wha-?" She said listlessly

"You fell into some form of trance," Tom explained with a frown on his face.

"I did?" She questioned, not aware of what really happened to her.

"Yes, you did," Tom said as he considered what this all meant. "Are you well?"

"Y-yeah. I think so." She answered, once again unable to look straight at the man before her.

_The death she describes_ He thought, directing his attention elsewhere for a moment, _it in no way matches what I did to Lilith Potter._

_And yet…there is no doubt in my mind that this is, in fact, Lilith Potter. Or, at the very least, a soul created from the remnants of that girl._

_But none of this makes any sense._ He all but scowled in consternation.

Then, he was struck by a moment of realization.

"You mentioned being torn apart _and_ being burned. These were two separate events, correct?" Tom asked the girl

"u-uh" She stammered for a moment, startled by his sudden query, "Y-yes."

"So you remember dying twice? Interesting." He murmured in thought.

_Well, taking that information into account, it brings up several possibilities. One, in particular._

"I believe you are remembering you past lives." He finally said. "Or deaths, in this case."

"I-I am?" She said in confusion and disbelief.

"It's likely, in any event. You could have also just absorbed the memories from the pool of blood and souls my followers produced for me, taking in the most traumatic and upsetting ones." He admitted.

"If I had to guess, the reason you are remembering your past lives is because of all the turbulent trauma your soul has gone through in such a short time, in addition to how young and fresh it was when I ripped it from your original body." He explained.

"So…reincarnation is real?" She asked, not entirely sure what to believe.

"It's a theory that's never been disproven, at the very least. To be honest, the most glaring thing about learning about soul magic was learning how much we _didn't_ know about soul magic. There are so many unknowns, assumptions, theory's, and source material it's absurd." Tom explained, having become an expert in soul magic in his search for immortality.

"The most obnoxious part of the whole thing is their lack of willingness to do any serious experimentation. We'd know so much more if those wizards were willing to perform tests on human souls to find the answers they sought. But no, can't have any "Black Magic" can we? Someone might try to take over the world or something." He grumbled to her.

It was something that seriously annoyed him about his research into the area, how much was unknown simply because the wizarding was simply too scared to delve into the mysteries of the deep, to plunge into the darkness to find what lay inside. They always worried about "black magic" and "tainting their soul". The people who _were_ willing to use black magic were too set in their ways to bother trying to innovate.

_The muggle term, "If it ain't broke don't fix it" seems to be a very disturbingly apt one for the wizarding world._ He internally grumbled.

_Though..._ He considered, _if she is remembering her reincarnated memories, why didn't that affect me?_

_Perhaps they have, but I just haven't noticed yet?_

_Or maybe my entire theory for why this is all happening is wrong and I don't know as much as I think I do._ He conceded with a sigh.

Looking up, he caught a ghost of a smile on the girl's face. Why it was there, he had no idea, nor did he particularly care. Instead, he had a more important issue to resolve.

"So, do you remember you name? Or, at the least, remember one you prefer?" Tom asked.

The girl in front of him pursed her lips and furrowed her brow for a moment of thought, but in the end shook her head helplessly.

"I figured as much." He said in a resigned voice.

"Still, I suppose this make things easier for me. From here on, you shall be known as Lilith. Not sure about your last name yet. It certainly won't be Potter, and I don't plan on going around calling myself Tom Riddle. That'd be a little too obvious when I'm trying to keep things under wraps." He announced to her.

The newly named, or renamed in this case, nodded her head in acceptance, the smallest of smile crawling up her face. Then, it faltered and died as something else she had remembered came to mind.

"U-uh…mister…." She began, not sure what to call him.

Tom sighed, realizing he didn't have a great name for her to call him right now. While he would have preferred Tom or Mr. Riddle, he doubted she would have the discretion necessary to realize not to say that while his followers were present, and he'd rather they not know his real name. With certain exceptions, of course. She could call him Voldemort, but he had enough people calling him that and he wasn't honestly _that_ fond of the French name. Not anymore, at least. It was fun when he first came up with the anagram, but now it was sort of grating considering most people were too scared to say it, and when they did say it they pronounced it incorrectly.

Plus, it wouldn't do for her to slip because of habit in public and call him Voldemort.

He could go with lord or master, like his followers, but the idea of a little girl calling him that left a bad taste in his mouth. Having a legion of adult followers calling him that of their own volition was one thing. Having a little girl recently reborn and in his care doing so was another matter entirely.

In the end, he resigned himself to one final choice. He knew if he spent more time thinking about it, he could figure out a better answer, but for now, this was all he could think of.

"Seeing as I have taken you as my Heir…I suppose calling me father would be appropriate after all." Tom Marvelo Riddle admitted.

And with those words, Lilith's face lit up briefly at the joy of having someone she could call father. Why it mattered so much to her, Tom told himself he had no idea.

Even if the reality was he knew all too well.

"So what was it you wanted to tell me?" He said tiredly, already knowing he was going to regret this.

"Uh, right. Father…what is a witch?" She asked innocently and completely seriously.

Tom blinked.

_What?_

"You, Lilith, are a witch. A woman who can perform magic." He explained, perplexed as to why she wouldn't know what a witch was, before another thought crossed his mind.

_Why would she?_

She was only a child. Technically she had died when she was one. Something that brought up the question as for why she could be…so…well…human, as opposed to being a one-year-old baby in a 6-year-old body. All in all, though, it was a bit strange that she knew the word witch, but did not know what it really meant.

_But why?_

"Oh…" She said dejectedly, "So they were right."

"Right? Who was right?" He asked, not liking where this was going.

At his question the girl looked down to the floor, unable to even look at him. Her voice was empty, yet resigned. He shoulders sagged while her dark hair shadowed her face.

"The people who burned me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, with Chap 2 of Silver Serpent.
> 
> Yes, Lilith is going to be calling Tom her father. Honestly, at first as a gut reaction, I sort of wanted that, but pulled back from it. Then I thought about it and decided I could kind of make it work.
> 
> If you can't tell, Tom isn't going to be starting the next Wizarding War.
> 
> Well, not immediately, anyway. He's going to be working under cover, at least until the events of the books are supposed to take place.
> 
> I say supposed because, well, there really isn't a way for it to happen now. I mean, 95% of the books happened because of Voldemort trying to kill harry. But now she's calling him dad, so that's not going to happen well. So you can just go ahead and throw canon out the window because it ain't happening.
> 
> And as indicated, part of this plan of his, Tom's going to be walking around outside and interacting with the rest of the world. And he's probably going to be taking his Heir along for at least some of that. It wouldn't do for her to give him away by accident.
> 
> As for why he revealed that whole "I killed your mom and tried to kill you" thing, I figure he can be smooth and suave when he wants, but he can be ruthless and blunt when he feels it would work best.
> 
> I also don't really want that to be a plot point of angst, having him lying to her for her entire life or something. Yeah, I've seen that happen way too much in both FF and actual stories. I don't want to do that myself, it's too...messy. I have to eventually have the reveal of the whole "I'm not your dad, I killed your family, angst for me! Blah blah blah".
> 
> I'm going to be making enough angst and existential issues on my own, I don't need more cliches to add to that. Trust me, we'll get to depression town just fine on our own.
> 
> On another note, yes, I'm being intentionally vague with why Lilith is the way she is and what she is. In part, this is because if I try to get too specific with it I might trip myself up later, making ironclad rules early on can screw you later. It's also because I don't want to spoil things that I may or may not have planned for later.
> 
> I'm also trying to make Tom more scientific. But with magic. So, scholarly I guess?
> 
> He's sort of a mad scientist...but with magic.
> 
> The man managed to figure out a way to give himself a shoddy version of immortality at a fairly young age, and didn't let a petty thing like "morality" get in his way to do it. This sounds like a man with the ambition and hunger for knowledge to delve deep into what many would consider impossible or unconscionable, all in pursuit of what he wanted.


	3. Conquer the Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a personal recommendation, I recommend listening to the song Arsonist's Lullaby by Hozier
> 
> It's the song I basically listened to on an endless loop while writing this chapter

**The North Sea**

A large structure jutted out from the cold, angry, waves. Monolithic and imposing in nature, it was fashioned from grey stone and had massive shear walls. Only a small, rocky, shore at the base provided any sort of entrance to the structure.

That, and the windows. But even the lowest were over 30 meters in above the ruthless waters. Iron bars kept even the most suicidal inmate in their place.

Not that it kept the other residents of the prison away. Silent specters flew about, looking like little more than shadows flitting about in the night. But on the inside, they were the source of endless terror and horror. Up close, they were not so silent, their raspy breaths giving the prisoners little chance for sleep. A constant reminder of the relentless terrors of their own past they would drudge up.

Dementors, they were called. Cold, ruthless, ghastly, and most critically, hungry. They feed on the fear, despair, and other dark emotions that filled this place of desolation. They drew it out by making one relive their most horrific and crushing memories over and over and over again. Eventually, you would be nothing left but a sad shadow of your former self. If you weren't mad going into this prison, then it's jailors would happily take you there.

The prison, the fortress of darkness, was known as Azkaban. A place without hope of escape, or peace. The meager Wizard Auror guards put in place were a formality, a simple human touch. They had no want or need to walk the halls with the specters about. Why bother?

The Dementors crushed any form of rebellion or hope, keeping the prisoners nice and subdued. The iron bars kept the insane and those with a spark of life in them in their place. They had no wands, no realistic hope of using their magic in any useful fashion. Even worse, the massive drop gave no hope of survival, even if they did escape. And the sheer walls gave no hope of entry. Even those on a broom would be at the mercy of the constant string of horrible storms as well as the floating specters that intercepted any intruder.

It was an idea many had grown to accept as fact. Azkaban was a prison that was impossible for any human to escape or infiltrate.

But what if they were…more…than human?

* * *

A typical inmate looks out the window, seeing nothing but the despondent outside, swimming with the demonic specters floating about in the raging storm.

Still, he held onto some measure of hope. He could see birds outside some days, flying high and free. He saw the simple beauty of nature through those Iron Bars in front of him.

 _So close_ he thought, sitting against the opposite corner of the room, his back to the cold stone wall.

 _Yet so far_ …He lamented, his head dropping.

He let his eyes close as he attempted to drift off to sleep, settling in for what little comfort he could manage. He knew he would have nightmares, but he was just so _tired_. He couldn't keep living like this. He knew he was dying slowly, losing his mind, piece by piece.

But as he drifted off to sleep, for once he actually had a good dream. A kind dream. A dream where he had done no wrong, where he was still with his wife and child, where all was right.

_Crack_

His head jerked up as his eyes flew open. His cell shook, loose dust falling from the ceiling. Then, just as soon as it started, it stopped.

He looked around, wondering if this was some fresh delusion, or if this was real. Peering through the bars, he saw that it had turned to night. The world outside was pitch black. The guards didn't bother giving inmates torches or any other form of light.

Why bother? They were scum living in the closest thing they had to hell.

 _Must 've been some delusion_ He thought, rubbing his eyes and letting out a loud yawn.

When he looked back out the window, he was meet with the sight of twin blood red and hellish orange orbs sitting in the darkness of his window.

He jerked back, startled by the sight. When they blinked, he realized, to his further horror, that they were eyes.

Not an instant later, two pale and grey hands wrapped themselves around two of the iron bars in his window. They gripped tightly, giving the…thing…outside ample purchase.

The man inside curled up into the corner as far as he could, willing himself to wake up.

"It's not real, it's not real." He told himself over and over again, his hands clamped over his ears as he tried to just dissolve into the stone walls.

He tried so hard to ignore the horrid reality of what was happening, that he missed the sound of metal creaking under the strain as they were bent and pulled apart. His didn't see as the thing bent a hole in his "secure" window. He didn't notice as the thing stepped through its entrance with the silent grace and hidden strength of a Panther stalking its prey.

He didn't hear it as the thing took step after step, inching closer and closer to him, until finally…

"I assure you, my good man…" The thing-the _demon_ began, his cold voice piercing through the shuddering man's whispers.

He looked up, seeing the horrid sight that looked down upon him. A man, if it can be called that, looked down on him. His face was handsome and strong, though his skin an ashen grey that had no right to be on a human. But it was the eyes that put fear into him. Those were the eyes of a demon wrapped in human flesh, that predatory grin was one belonging to a cunning and hungry beast standing over its prey.

"…It's quite real."

And with that, the demon in his cell lunged. The man tried to scream, but the demon's hand wrapped around his mouth, silencing him.

"Ah ah ah…" The demon chided, "Quiet."

And then, in a flurry of movement, the demon pulled the man into a hold. One arm braced against his windpipe, crushing it, the other grasping his chin. The man's back was to the demon, and no matter how much he flailed and struggled, he accomplished nothing.

"Let's just keep this little secret between us, right?" The demon asked rhetorically.

The man tried to scream, but he could find no air.

"Good, I'm glad you agreed." The Demon nodded.

_Snap_

And with that, the man fell limp, his spinal cord disconnected and his head turned 180 degrees.

"I'm glad we could come to an arraignment." The demon smiled, pleased with his work.

Not wasting, he quickly took the corpse in his hands and pushed him out the opening he had made, letting his body fall into the icy waters below, never to be found. Satisfied that the body had been disposed of, he continued to cover his tracks by bending the bars back into place.

He left the room much the same way he entered, though this time through the entrance into the hall rather than the window, and much like the window bent them back into place in his wake.

Wiping his hands of the grime collected from the bars and wall climbing outside, the demon smiled to himself.

"Well, that went well." The demon smiled to himself, "Now to find my lost Hand."

Truth be told, the demon didn't think of himself as a demon. He was Tom. Tom Marvelo Riddle. Sure, he may have once been called Voldemort, but these days he used to think of himself as Tom.

Tom, he thought, was a much better name. For one, it wasn't as widely known as Voldemort, nor was it as notorious and immediately connected with a Dark Lord. He knew it wouldn't be too hard to connect the dots for competent Auror with even a hint of a bad feeling about him, which is why he wasn't going to use it as his cover name, but at the same time, it didn't feel as….silly…as Voldemort.

Mainly because no one pronounced it correctly

 _It's very much like a joke_ He began to think to himself, _That everyone else thinks they get, or don't actually get, and yet they still laugh along despite not understanding it_

Shaking his head, he thought, _Such a shameful waste of good wordplay_

 _Though, I suppose I don't want to be known as a man who fled from death_ He conceded.

 _Oh no, I want to be known as the man who_ _ **conquered it**_ He grinned

Then he heard it.

That raspy breath.

It was quiet, but it was there. There was little other sound to denote their presence. Something that made most men quiver in fear at the thought of being so close to.

Tom Marvelo Riddle wasn't most men.

So when the shadow Dementor rounded the corner and lunged for him, he did not panic. Instead, he let it touch him, he let it draw close. He let the ghastly thing face him as he looked at it's own. He looked at the gaping maw filled with darkness and jagged, broken, and uneven teeth. He looked at the sockets where the eyes should go, only to be covered over with scarred and scratchy skin. But he did not flinch.

After a cursory inspection, the Dementor pulled back from his body. It bent over ever so slightly, as if bowing, before leaving to go on it's way about the castle.

Tom's eyes lingered on it's form for a moment, never allowing himself to show weakness or disdain. Only when it left his field of vision did he let out the breath he had been holding in.

He knew what it had done. It had remember him from the last wizarding war, and it knew what he had promised. But he could also tell it wasn't quite sure what to do with him. It approached him more slowly than it might for a human, and inspected him closely before it knew who he was.

 _Perhaps it is because I am not completely alive or dead? But some kind of….un-life?_ The man considered.

Resuming his journey forward, he thought further onto the matter, _I wonder if that means they will react similarly to Lilith?_

 _Still, I have to be glad that this body cares not for the cold or exhaustion. Otherwise traversing the North see in little more than a raft and dealing with the Dementors would be even more uncomfortable._ He admitted, pleased with his new body.

He chuckled to himself quietly, more than happy with how things were turning out.

_Why, dying might be the best thing that ever happened to me._

* * *

**Bellatrix pov**

"Gah-AAAAAHH!"

The woman in black woke up to the sounds of screams. Nothing unusual in this hell hole, but this time there was something different about it.

She could smell the iron in the air, the pain in the voice. It wasn't just emotional pain and torment, like it usually was.

Oh no. She could tell this was real, physical pain. Pain she relished to unleash.

But there were three problems with that sound right now. One, she was trying to sleep and they were far too close. Two, she wasn't the one making them happen. And then there was three…

…She knew those voices.

Her eyes flashing open wide in frantic recognition, she flipped over the floor to see the source of the screams, and saw something she honestly wasn't sure how to comprehend. Her husband, he was lying there on the cold merciless floor in front of her.

But he wasn't alone.

Above him stood a towering figure, wreathed in dark clothes and a menacing overcoat. A hood hung over his head, leaving his face in darkness. The figure had her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange, below him, pinned by a boot pushing his bloody and bruised face into the stone floor whilst he pulled the free arm of Rodolphus tightly away from his body at a painful angle.

"Stop it you bloody idiot!" Rodolphus screamed in pain anger

In response, the figure just took his free hand, grabbed hold of Rodolphus' hand, and-

_Crack_

"Ahhh!" He roared in agony, having his wrist dislocated.

"I'm going to fucking gut you like a bloody fish, you worthless mudblood piece of shit!" He raged, giving empty threats to a man who held all the cards.

_Crack_

"Ah-fuck!" He screamed again, having one of his fingers bent all the way backwards, the bones and joints loudly snapping.

"Guards! Guards!" Rodolphus finally began to scream.

"Oh…" The figure began, speaking a voice that was…familiar to Bellatrix. "I wouldn't bother with them."

"We're in the depths of hell, boy. No one cares if you scream here." He mocked.

It was oh so painfully familiar to her, but she couldn't tell why. She knew she should know this, she knew this was important, but behind all the pain and hallucinations over the past couple years, she couldn't make sense of what was happening.

"Why are you doing this?" Her Husband growled, still a bit of bite in him,

"Do you even know who I am? I'll ruin your fucking life!" He said, spitting out a glob of blood and spit.

"I work for the Bloody Dark lord himself!" He proudly proclaimed.

"Do you now?" The figure said, mildly amused.

"I'm his most trusted servant, his most capable soldier! When I get out of here-" Rodolphus ranted.

"Quiet." The figure hushed him

To punctuate his point, he casually broke another finger with a _Snap_ , eliciting another cry of pain from the man below him. Bellatrix looked up at the figure, a measure of rage stirring in her at the figure that _dared_ hurt her husband, but try as she might, it couldn't truly materialize in her. It would flare, but it refused to burn brightly within her.

It was as if some kind of…primal fear…inside her snuffed it out whenever it tried. But not just fear, something else too. Something she couldn't put a finger on.

So she looked back up at the figure. Still dazed and confused, she wasn't sure what she would see if she tried to look through the shadows. So naturally she wasn't prepared when she saw something oh so familiar.

Her legs buckled, her hands trembled, and her eyes watered as the weight of what was happening finally fell upon her. She collapsed to her knees, pressing her forehead into the cold, dirty, and bloody floor beneath her.

"My Lord," She began, "Please forgive my insolence, I should have recognized you sooner."

And with those, she heard all the struggling in Rodolphus stop. She could hear the sharp inhale of breath as he too realized who this man standing over him was.

"Ah, Bella. Truly, it is a testament to your place as my Right Hand that you would be able to recognize me so quickly." The man, her lord, said, a satisfied sound filling his voice and bringing a measure of peace to Bellatrix's fat beating heart.

"..T-then it is truly you, my lord?" Rodolphus stuttered, unable to believe what was happening.

It was here that the dynamic in the room truly shifted. Whereas before Bellatrix would instantly come to the aid of her husband, and together they would make the intruder pay double for all the pain and trouble they had caused, now things were quite different.

Now the room felt colder than before, things were in a far more serious light. Bellatrix could tell, for good or for ill, after this moment things would take a massive turn for her life.

"Good of you to notice, Rodolphus." Their Lord Voldemort commented idly, a slight measure of disappointment leaking into his voice.

"Bellatrix, if you would, lift up your head. I want to look you in the eyes." He said in a calm voice. But she could tell, anyone could tell. This was not a request, this was a command.

So, against the urges of her fearful animal mind that wanted to do little more than run and hide, she lifted her head to look her master in his eyes.

 _They weren't as orange before_ She thought idly, gazing at the beautiful mix of bloody red and angry orange, all mixed with an ethereal glow that made him look ever so inhuman.

"Good, good," He nodded, "Well, as you can see, I have made my return."

"So it worked," She whispered, not quite believing it. It was almost too good to be true. She knew it was possible, that Lucius said he would do it.

But even still…her master was alive again! He had returned for them! He would make all right once more with the world!

"So why are you here?" Rodolphus asked, "My lord," He hastily added.

"Ah." Voldemort began, "Well, you see, I came to retrieve my most useful and loyal soldier. I felt myself lost without their skill and power aiding me."

"Oh, why thank you, my lord, I'm flattered you-" Rodolphus began.

"Not you." Voldemort bit out in a halting and harsh voice, annoyed at having been interrupted.

It was at that moment that Bellatrix finally began to worry for her husband began. She realized the position he was in, and she could hear the lack of favor in her master's voice for him. She could tell there was a measure of disdain there, of displeasure.

And her master did not tolerate things that did not please him.

"Bellatrix." He said, pulling her from her worried thoughts, "I have come for my Right Hand."

"I am honored, my lord." She thanked him with another low bow.

"Um…what about me, your lord?" Rodolphus asked nervously.

"Patience, Rodolphus, your time shall come in a moment." Voldemort dismissed him.

"But first." He said, his voice lined with that degree of pleasure and glee it only held when he was about to do something terribly wicked.

"I have a test."

"A…test, my lord?" She asked, confused and worried for what it promised.

"Yes, a test." He nodded, a malevolent grin slowly carving its way onto his ashen grey face. "A test of loyalty."

"I assure you, my lord, I am completely loyal." Bellatrix hastily assured him, fear growing in her at the thought of her lord having doubts about her.

 _How can he doubt me?_ She thought, _Have I done something wrong? How have I failed him?_

_Does he no longer trust me as he once did?_

"I-I too, am loyal, my lord. I swear!" her husband frantically added, terror filling his voice.

"Oh, I know you are loyal. But the question is…to whom?" He darkly inquired.

He left the implications of his words to hang in the air for a precious few moments that seemed to drag on for hours. They hung there, slowly seeping into full beings of the two other present, sinking in like liquid nitrogen, freezing them to the bone.

"M-my lord, I-I don't-" Rodolphus began to explain.

Voldemort didn't even begin to bother responding verbally, instead he simply broke another finger. The ring finger, Bellatrix noticed. The accompanying cry of agony silencing the man and adding even more pressure to the atmosphere.

It was here that they could truly taste it in the air. That feeling they had felt so many times before. A feeling that they once relished, they now dreaded. It was the feeling that much blood would be spilt this night, and that many cries of anguish would fill the air. It was an ineffable feeling that many in his order had strived to be able to produce. Bellatrix herself had come closest, but their Dark Lord was truly the master of it.

Just one look in his orange red eyes, one glimpse at that ever so slight smile blessed with almost blindingly white teeth, told the whole story. It was the veneer of sedate and calm pleasure that he held when about to do the most despicable things that so disturbed and enthralled them. The way he could torture a man into insanity with nothing more than a pleasant grin. Not giving into mania like many would, but instead always in total, constant, conscious, control of what he was doing.

So it was when he looked up at Bellatrix with that face, that she felt a fear that no Dementor could ever hope to match.

"Bellatrix…" He began in a calm voice, "You know you are my Right Hand, yes? My most trusted and loyal follower?"

"Yes, my lord." She said lowly, not wanting to incite his wrath.

"And yet, I've found after a bit of introspection and self-discovery, that perhaps I might have made a mistake in my decision." He casually admitted, as if admitting to nothing more than picking an unflattering color of robe.

Bellatrix's heart beat furiously in her chest, her breaths becoming short and ragged. Her fear began to blossom into raw terror at the words he said.

"M-my lord, h-how have I failed you?" She frantically wondered, racking her mind for how her precious master could possibly find fault with him.

 _Am I a failure? Surely I must be worthless for him to say such things of me!_ She thought, her eyes watering with fear and shame. Much like being scolded by a father, except this time by one she actually genuinely loved and respected, rather than the old bastard of a man her birth father was.

"Oh no, Bellatrix, the failure isn't truly yours. No, it's mine for making such an oversight in the first place." He placated her

At first, she relaxed, but only for a moment.

"You see, my most trusted agent, my most valued soldier, my most loyal Hand has herself a loving husband." Voldemort stated, the implications of which did not escape the two at his mercy.

Bellatrix and Rodolphus' eyes both went wide as they began to think about where this was going.

"M-my l-lord, I-" Rodolphus tried to defend himself.

_Crack_

Another cry of pain as his little finger was bent beyond its limits.

"You see, I'm something of a jealous, self-centered, and selfish man. I can't have my most trusted agent having another one competing for her trust. Especially a man whose trust and loyalty I doubt myself." Voldemort continued to explain.

"Now, ever since my rebirth, I've realized that trust and loyalty are very important things to me. Something you have in spades, my dear Bella." He said, turning back to her pet name. "Your husband, however, not so much."

She could see the measure of fight rising in her husband's eyes. He wanted to protest again, but the pain from his broken bones and mangles hand was still fresh in his mind, so he held his tongue.

"You see, after giving it much thought, I've realized that Rodolphus isn't actually loyal to me, so much as he is loyal to the 'cause'." Voldemort explained. "He just sees me as a means to his own ends. I align with his goals, which is why he allies himself with me. But he doesn't always listen to me, now does he?"

At this, Rodolphus' eyes widened even further, realizing the error in which Voldemort spoke of.

"You see, I discovered why you, in particular, were sent to Azkaban. Bellatrix, I can understand, but you? You were crafty, you would have woven a lie."

"So imagine my surprise when I hear that apparently, you had gone to the house of the Longbottom's to attack them and kill their child. You failed, of course, because you went alone. You tried to convince Bellatrix to come with you, but she, unlike you, listened to my orders and did not go." Voldemort said with a look of mock disappointment

"I had told you the prophecy only spoke of a girl, not a boy, and yet you still believed that you were more correct than me, that you had the right of it."

Rodolphus squirmed in protest, and action his master quickly ended by applying more pressure with his boot to the back of his head. The feeling of his skull being slowly crushed against the floor was more than enough to silence the man.

"Or was it that your bloodlust was so great that you didn't care? Did you strike out of hate, because they defied me and were 'muggle lovers'?" Voldemort suggested.

"They _were_ filthy muggle lovers!" Rodolphus shot out before he could stop himself.

His eyes clenched as he assumed pain would follow the outburst, but instead, to his surprise, it never came. Looking up, he instead saw his lord giving him a curious look.

The Dark Lord looked away from the man and instead turned to his Right Hand, the woman in black still kneeling on the floor before them.

"Bellatrix." He began, getting her attention, "Just to let you know, the potter girl is alive as well."

"And I've claimed her as my Heir."

That string of words…never had something given her such a colorful spread of such intense emotions.

There was the furious rage at the thought of the Potter girl still living, the mudblood filth. Then there was the thought of her lord taking the mudblood as his favored, as his heir. It set fire to her veins, the thought that he would dare do such a thing.

But all this was tempered by joy, oddly enough. Her master had found an Heir, and know her master, she was a worthy one. He accepted nothing short of excellence and perfection. If he thought the girl a worthy heir, then he must have ample reason.

The mix of emotions left her frozen slack, stunned by what he had said. Rodolphus, however, was not so silent.

"You _What!_ " He roared, his face turning beet red in indignant fury.

"You would _dare_ leave the half-blood filth living? You would _dare_ spit upon all that makes the wizarding world great?" He challenged.

The dark lord simply hummed in thought for a moment, as if considering the man's words with the same weight as a child's idle thoughts.

"And what if I told you that _I_ was a half-blood?" Voldemort suggested with a raised brow.

The silence brought about by this statement was obvious to all as merely being the tense calm before the storm. The pressure in the room seemed to increase tenfold as Rodolphus and Bellatrix realized what it was that their master was saying.

It was here, that Bellatrix's mind truly went blank as it was forced to contend with two rival concepts in her mind.

She hated mudbloods and muggles, they were weak filth that needed to be expunged from the world. And yet…the absolute finest example of a dark wizard, without a shadow of a doubt, was a half-blood.

The man she looked up to, at times as a father figure, others as a love interest, but always as her savior and mentor, was a half-blood.

It was…it was something that went against everything she believed in. Her entire world had been turned on its head by one simple sentence, by the simple revelation of her master's ancestry.

"You…you…" Her husband murmured, stunned by these words.

"You…filthy _**Animal!**_ " He finally growled.

"You Lying, Scheming PIG!" He began to rant and rave. "YOU'RE A TRAITOR TO ALL THE WIZARDING WORLD, YOU'D BRING US TO RUIN YOU FILTHY MUDBLOOD!"

Spit began to fly from his mouth as he forgot his pain, the position he was in, and the man he spoke to. He was consumed by his hate, all true thought and reasoning had flown from his mind. It was these very reasons that the Dark Lord was doing this in the first place.

"BELLA!" He called out to her. "KILL HIM!"

"Wha-but…" She stammered, blindsided by his command. Her mind was not ready to handle this upheaval of all she knew.

"KILL THIS FILTHY MUDBLOOD, BELLA! KILL HIM!" He roared again

Suddenly, Voldemort shifted above him, saying in a bored tone, "Oh, do _shut up_."

And with that, he slammed his foot into the back of the man's shoulder, loudly breaking it as the arm itself bent into an impossible and unnatural angle in the joint. Rodolphus cried out again in agony, but unlike before, their lord did not stop there.

Instead, he dropped the furious man's arm, letting it flop to the ground, limp and useless. Then, using his foot, he flipped him over onto his back, as if he was nothing more than trash. Then he stomped on his other shoulder, driving his heel into the man's shoulder blade. Bellatrix could hear the _crack_ and _snap_ of bone and muscle as her husband's shoulder was shattered. Shards of bone burrowed into the meat and muscle, ripping and rending it to shreds.

And yet still, the Dark Lord was not done with this man.

"You see, Rodolphus…" He began, crouching down to the prone man's level and pulling back his arm.

Then he thrust his fist into the base of his spine, shattering the spinal cord at the hip.

"When I said 'Your time shall come in a moment'," He continued casually after paralyzing the man from the waist down.

" _This_ ," He said, moving his hands up towards the back of the broken man's chest. Then, between words, he drove his hands into the chest of Rodolphus.

Not like before, not with a fist, not to shatter bone. This time his hands slid between the ribs, cutting through the man's flesh with a slick wet sound.

"...Is what I meant." He finished

At this, Rodolphus _screamed_. He _begged_.

Over and over again, Bellatrix watched her husband scream, "STOP! STOP!"

His voice ran rough, tears welled in his eyes, and blood oozed from all across his body. And all the while, Voldemort continued to wrap his hands around the lower ribs of the man at his mercy with that calm, pleasant, smile on his face. Being careful with his work, he clenched his hands, breaking three ribs on each side off from the main cage. With a powerful tug, he tore them from their muscle, meat, and bloody bindings, and ripped them out of the man's body.

By this time, Rodolphus could scream no more, his voice ridden out and extinguished. Tears silently streamed down his face as he tried to bear with the agony of having a part of his own body ripped out of him.

Voldemort, however, looked over the bones in his hands, nodding to himself in approval of them. Then he spared an idle glance at the man at his feet, before kicking him in the chest. The kick sent the broken man flying across the room, landing in the center of the floor. He hit the ground like a bloody wet sack of bricks, his body bending under assault. He was still alive, barely, but he was paralyzed by both pain and strategic destruction of his body.

Bellatrix herself was almost catatonic. Before her, she watched the two great men in her life at odds. No, saying that they were at odds would imply there was some fight, some chance her husband could win. Instead, he lay there, destroyed and brought low by their master.

"Bella…" His smooth as silk voice said to her, pulling her from her thoughts for a moment.

"This…is your test." He said as he bent down to her level.

He extended his hand to her, and in it was one of the bloody ribs from her husband's chest. But it was…twisted, and different. Its base was more round and full, while it tapered to a sharp, thin, and curved point at the end. It resembled a bloody claw fashioned from bone.

It was undoubtable, in her mind right then, that this was a weapon. A makeshift knife made from the bones of her husband.

"You see Bella, I trust you, I truly do. I find that you are one of my most valuable agents. It's why you're my right hand, after all." He comforted her, drawing close and putting one arm around her shoulders while the other still held the bone knife out to her.

"But, I need to know that you are worth that position. I need to know that I can trust you above all others. I need to know that you are loyal to _me_." He stressed, "No to the pureblood ideals, not to magical Britain, and not to your husband. Me."

"Do you understand what I'm asking?" He asked, looking her in the eyes as he did.

Slowly, she turned to him, still processing what was happening, still trying to come to terms with it. Already, her clever mind could tell where this was going. Already she could see what he wanted, no matter how much she didn't want to believe it.

"So, you see, this is your chance to prove to me you deserve it. This is your one and only chance to prove to me that you are, well and truly, my Right Hand." He said.

"So do you know what I want you to do?" He asked.

Still in denial, she slowly shook her head.

"I see, I see." He nodded in understanding, "Bella…"

"I want you to kill Rodolphus."

"I want you to kill your husband."

That was it.

He had said it.

_He actually wants me to do it_

Then, she couldn't help herself, she let out a sob. She quickly choked back anymore, but it was too late, her master had heard it. He could see the tears streaking down her face, marred with grime and dirt.

"I don't want to." She admitted.

"Your husband is holding you back. Rodolphus doesn't understand you, he doesn't understand us." Voldemort said in an effort to convince her.

"He loves me." She sobbed.

"No, he just wants to use you. He sees you as nothing more than a lump of flesh bound to his whim. To him, you're just an extension of his will, and a toy to be thrown away when he gets bored." He continued.

"No, I'm precious to him." She said, trying to convince herself of the very words coming out of her mouth.

"Did he hit you after he got caught trying to hurt the Longbottoms?" He asked, switching tactics. "Did he blame his capture on you? Calling you a failure, a terrible wife?"

"I-no," She denied, pulling her hands up to grasp her head, trying to quell the massive storm raging within. She could feel a pressure in her mind, one that grew stronger and stronger with each word out of her master's mouth.

"No no no no no no." She repeated on and on.

_No no no, bad thoughts, bad thoughts!_

"Does he show you love?"

_It's not true!_

"Does he show you tenderness?"

_Ignore it!_

"Does he care for you?"

_He is your husband!_

"Or are you just a plaything to him?"

_You are his wife!_

"Something to have fun with, killing and slaughtering all in the name of a join misguided hatred force-fed to you by your forefathers?"

"Stop it!" She cried, the pain in her mind becoming unbearable.

"Stop it," She sobbed, the agony burning in her mind trying to break her. It was all too much for her, too much of her world being flipped on its head. Everything her parents taught her, and everything she had learned herself was at war. Her very existence as a person, and as a witch, was in a tortuous Limbo.

She wanted to believe her master, she wanted to obey him. He was everything to her. He was her light, her savior, her mentor, her…everything. And yet, he was…wrong. He was a Halfblood, a mudblood. A dirty horrible disease upon all the wizarding world. And despite that, he was the most exemplary example of a powerful wizard, and even more, a dark wizard, that she had ever known.

And her husband, he was…he was not. Rodolphus was cruel, inelegant, unimaginative, and rash. There was a certain…finesse…he lacked. A certain measure of a man that was lacking in him. But he was a pureblood. He was supposed to be the highest example of a wizard possible. And in ways, he was. He was strong, he had power, and he had a talent with magic. But beyond that? He was weak. So much of his own self was simply built on an exaggeration of what his parents told him.

" _Mudbloods are filth, the purebloods are the heart of the wizarding world. They are the only true wizards, and everything else beneath them."_ She remembered

 _Is…is that me?_ She considered, disturbed by the implications. _Am I like that? Just a puppet reciting what the Pureblood ethics as taught to me by my father were?_

_Am I just a slave to my past? To my father?_

The thought made her snarl. She hated her father, the despicable wretch of a man. Making her marry Rodolphus, the insufferable g-

Another spark of pain flashed through her head, disrupting her thoughts. But it was too late. She still had them, she still remembered them.

 _I…I had hated Rodolphus._ She realized.

 _Why…why don't I hate him anymore?_ She thought.

"Why does it hurt?" She whispered, clenching her pounding forehead.

"It is because you realize the truth. The wool is being ripped from your eyes. It is a transformative and painful process." Voldemort told her.

"But it is a vital one, and at the end of it, you will come out the better." He told her

"There is a point in every man or woman's life where they face a breaking point. They face something that will change them, something they cannot simply just weather. They will either bend or break." He said with conviction. "Sometimes they face more than one. Some are bigger than others. But they always face that moment."

"This is yours, right now. This is that breaking point, Bella."

"I don't want to kill him." She whimpered.

"If you want to prove yourself to me, you need to."

"But…he's my husband."

"Do you love him?"

"I…"

"Is it worth it?"

At that, she remained silent, her resistance slowly whittling away as something else inside built up.

"Bella, if you do this, if you prove yourself to me, you will be my most trusted one. I will never forsake you or abandon you. You will take a special, treasured place, at my side with my lieutenants."

She nodded slowly in agreement, liking what he was saying.

"Lucius may be my Left Hand, but he is a practical and capricious man. While I know he won't betray me, and is trustworthy, it isn't the same as with you. With him, it's a practical match of interests, a common goal, and an understanding and respect for myself." He explained,

"But you? You are _loyal_ , you are _faithful_. You can be above all my followers, my favored hand, all you need do is commit everything to me." He whispered in her ear

His words, they were like honey on her tongue. She wanted them, wanted it to happen. She _needed_ it, she needed someone to understand and accept her. She needed an anchor in the madness of her life.

"All you need to do to prove your undying loyalty to me, you unquestionable faith in me, is to drive this knife into him, and extinguish his life. Otherwise, how am I to trust you when someone else competes for your loyalty?" He finished.

She looked at the knife held out to her. The wicked curve of its edge. The way it was soaked in her husband's blood, the way it seemed to scream of madness and death. It sang to her. It beckoned her to use it.

"Bella…" A voice rasped. Looking up, she saw the face of her dear husband looking at her, a pleading look on his face.

"Please…" He begged.

And in that moment, she made her decision.

She stood up from her position on the floor and began to walk towards him. With each swaying step she took, the pain in her head flared, higher and higher. Each movement seemed to become agony as pain expanded from her mind. And even still, she soldiered on. She had a duty, and she would not be swayed from it.

Finally, she stood above her husband, her dear Rodolphus. She remembered all the time they had shared. Both in the bedroom and on the battlefield. She remembered every laugh, every smile, every cry.

"Rodolphus…" She began.

"Yes, my sweet Bella?" He said with a pained smile.

"I love you." She confessed.

And with those words, his smile blossomed into a grin of victory. He thought it over, he thought he had won. That he still possessed her.

"But…I love my Lord more."

Before he could react, she pounced upon him, bloody bone knife in hand. In a meager attempt to defend himself, he tried to raise his arms. But the base of them were ruined and shredded. His response was too slow and imprecise to be of any good.

So the fated knife born of his own body burrowed itself in his throat, the sharpened tip spearing through skin, blood, flesh, and trachea.

He looked up at her with a look of betrayal at first, as if he had really loved her. But then they flashed to rage, and he tried to fight back.

Instead, he choked on the blood flooding into his lungs, he gagged on his own fluids. His own body turned on him, failing him in his time of need. His body broken, his throat torn, his lungs drowning in his own blood.

In the frantic throes of death, he managed to flail one hand up and grab her neck. His grip was weak, and in return, his dear wife pulled the knife out of his throat and plunged it into his heart. His eyes widened as he choked in agony.

The light slowly left his eyes as his arm went slack, until finally, it dropped.

Bellatrix looked down at him, at her dear husband who she had once treasured. As she felt his blood upon his hands, she couldn't help but smile. Not the smile of her Lord, oh no.

This was a mad, sinister, grin upon the face of a woman with violet eyes, messy black hair, and a face splattered with fresh blood.

 _I'm free_ she thought to herself

"I'm finally free." She said with a giggle, scarcely able to believe it herself.

"I'm free!" She screamed in joy, raising her knife and plunging it into his dead chest again and again. She looked into his cold dead eyes and felt only elation at what she had done. She relished the feeling of his warm blood upon her skin, covering it like a warm blanket.

But then, she noticed something. She felt a tingling upon that skin, at looked at her bare arm. There she saw the blood smattered on it do something chilling.

It began to crawl.

It traveled up her skin, moving over her flesh like a river in reverse. For a moment, she panicked as it traveled up her arm. Frantically, she ripped off her prisoner's garb, trying to stop it, trying to see where it went.

She saw it travel across her bare breasts, before stopping and collecting right atop her heart. Dark crimson lines then traveled from her heart to every corner of her body. Had she been a physician she would have noticed that they were mirroring her own cardiovascular system. It traveled down her legs, up her neck, across her face, and along her fingers. No vein left unmarked.

Looking down, she saw more and more blood flowing in from her husband's corpse. He grew paler and paler as more blood left his body and covered her own. In her rising panic, she tried to scratch the crawling blood off her, the while murmuring "no no no" with wide eyes. But it did no good, the blood simply flowed around her fingers, ignoring them to go on their way.

When every last drop of blood was drained from Rodolphus' body and the blood stopped crawling across her skin, it began to glow. It shone in a dull crimson red, lighting up the otherwise dark room in Azkaban.

Then she saw it.

All around the room, a bright blue light shone from runes carved in a circle spanning wall to wall. A circle she was at the center of.

She expected pain, she expected to be betrayed, she expected to be dead.

She did not expect the feeling of euphoria that overcame her.

She gasped in surprise, falling to her knees as she was filled with the feeling of… _power_ flowing into her. She glanced at her skin to see the glowing blood seemingly dissolving into her skin and becoming one with her.

Then it was gone. The glowing runes around the room stopped shining and the last drop of blood entered her body. The feeling of euphoria left her, but in its wake, she was left feeling…empowered.

"What…what was that?" She wondered out loud,

"Black magic." A voice said behind her.

Spinning around she saw her lord standing behind her with a pleased smile on his face.

"Black magic?" She questioned. She knew of her, being a Black after all, but she had never heard of a spell of this nature.

"It's a ritual spell, one of many of the sacrificial ones. It requires a lover to betray and murder their other for the glory of another." He explained, "Think of it as my gift to you."

"What did it do, my lord?" She asked, remembering her station and manners.

"Well…in a manner of speaking, you ate his soul." He answered.

Her eyes widened in surprise and her jaw went ever so slack.

"I…ate his soul?" she repeated in disbelief.

"Well, I suppose it's more accurate to say you consumed his essence." He reconsidered.

"But not just his."

She blinked, "Who else, my lord?"

"His brother, as well as five other people I…'met'… along the way here." He answered, "I used their blood to make the ritual circle while you slept."

"In effect, their power and strength have been added to yours, both physical and magical."

"You mean…you set all this up beforehand?" She realized, "W-what if I failed your test?"

"You didn't."

"But what if I did? What if I failed you, my lord?"

"You wouldn't."

"But what if I did? What would you have done?"

"Bella," He said, an amused smile worn upon his face, "You would not fail me. I knew you would not, because I trust you. I simply needed to free you from your own bonds."

"I…yes, my lord." She finally agreed, her heart warmed by his incredible faith in her.

"Now then, "He began, switching topics.

"I believe it's about time that we make our way out of here."

* * *

Soon they had left the bloody cell behind. Afterward, Voldemort gave her another blade of bone, allowing her to wield one in each hand.

 _I have to admit_ She thought, _I'm surprised by how well they fit in my hands._

_They just feel…right._

Their progress, however, was halted when her lord silently motioned for them to stop when they came to a junction. He pulled out his wand and issued a quiet privacy charm.

"Bella, around the corner are two guards." He began to explain.

She nodded her head in understanding.

"Now, under other conditions, I might consider just sneaking around them." He admitted.

"We're not doing that."

"Are we going to kill them, my lord?" She asked, unable to hide the excitement creeping into her voice.

"Patience, my girl. We are, but we are not going to be using conventional wizard tactics to do it. Since you lack your wand and your repertoire of wandless spells are much more limited than I, we'll be doing things the old muggle way." He explained,

"Which means using these." He said, holding up another bone knife of his as an example.

"I trust you have no problem with this?"

"No, my lord." She said, a gleeful grin spreading across her face at the chance of more bloodshed. After killing Rodolphus with the knife of bone before, she had gotten something of a taste for it. There was something special about the feeling of someone's life passing so close to you, of having their blood spill upon you as you look into their eyes while they die.

"Good girl." He smiled.

"Now," He began, peering around the corner.

Bella herself snuck a glance as well, careful not to give away their position. At the end of the hall, she could see two Aurors standing, walking in their direction.

Looking to him for guidance, she saw him press himself into one of the many indents in the wall created by the columns jutting out of the stone face. Hiding on the opposite side, she did her best to press herself into the shadows and become one with the wall.

They waited as the guards slowly came closer, her lord's face telling her to have patience. Soon she could hear the distant _clack_ of their shoes hitting stone. She could see the outline of their torches slowly approaching.

Step by step, they got closer and closer. All the while Bella's heart beat more and more furiously in her chest. The thought of being caught causing adrenaline to surge through her body.

Eventually, the Aurors arrived at the corner and turned in their direction. They walked past the two of them, not even sparing the area a second glance.

A fatal mistake.

One of the guards stopped to scratch something off his shoe while the other one continued on. Seeing the opportunity, Voldemort flew from his spot, nothing more than a shadow in the darkness, and closed in on the exposed back of the man.

Finally, upon the unsuspecting wizard, he stuck out with the left knife first, plunging it into the man's mid chest, aiming exactly for the diaphragm. When the guard attempted to draw breath and scream, he found that his lungs had lost all strength. He also found it difficult when her Dark Lord impaled the man's neck from the side with the second knife in his right hand. Not allowing the man any more time to process, he quickly ripped the man's neck out, tearing out his throat and causing arterial blood to pour from the gaping wound.

Carefully laying him down on the ground without a sound, the man died moments later in silent pain.

Looking back at her, he gestured to the other guard, silently commanding her to end him.

Nodding back, she mentally prepared herself, going through what she wanted to do. A moment later, she was ready.

Running forward, she tried her best to silence her steps, but having no experience at it and sprinting at full speed, her steps were loud enough for the guard to hear her. He turned in the middle of her charge, wondering what he had heard.

What he got for his trouble was the force of a 60kg woman moving at about 7 m/s all concentrated channeled through a knife aimed directly at his neck. Slamming into him at full speed, the knife speared through his neck and went through his spinal cord, immediately ending him. The crazed woman in black and the lifeless man fell the ground in a loud heap, with the torch clattering to the ground next to them.

Bellatrix blinked, before realizing what all had happened.

As thrilling as killing a man in such a personal way was, the fact that she had performed so poorly when compared to her master was something that caused her to blush in shame. Tearing the knife from his neck, she nearly decapitated him. Only a few scraps of meat and skin keeping his head technically connected to his body.

"Well…at least you killed him." Her master commented, looking over her shoulder with a quirked brow.

"Sorry, my lord. I am…ill experienced in these things." She confessed, unable to look him in the eye.

"its fine, I didn't expect you to get it right on the first try." He dismissed, "I doubt you had a similar set of life experiences compared to myself."

"Truly, my lord?" She inquired, unable to keep the curiosity from her voice.

"Perhaps I'll tell you later." He waved her off.

"For now, we need to take advantage of this situation." He announced.

"By doing what, my lord?" She asked.

"By killing every single Auror on this rock." He said, that ever so pleasant smile promising nothing but pain gracing his face again.

"As they say, practice makes perfect."

* * *

" _Bellatrix Lestrange Escapes Azkaban_

_Insane women slaughters inmates and guards alike using the bones of her own husband"_

Lucius sighed as he read the paper again.

 _I suppose it was too much to hope for our Lord to be more subtle._ He internally remarked.

 _Still, I suppose it's quite the ingenious bit of strategy_ He admitted.

Since there was no evidence to prove that anyone else helped escape, it would build a legend for Bellatrix. Allowing their Dark Lord to stay in the shadows while she acts as a secret extension of his will. No one would question if the insane Death Eater that killed her own husband and fashioned weapons from his own bones goes around killing people.

 _And I suppose it is nice to have someone competent and obedient working with us again_. He thought

_Even if she is absolutely bloody insane_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we finally got Bella.
> 
> I had quite a bit of fun I had with this one what with all the killing and...everything, honestly. Even if it didn't exactly go according to plan.
> 
> In here we see the tone of the story become more what I wanted it to be.
> 
> Also, if you want an idea for what the Bone Knife looks like, it's basically like a Karambit made from bone.
> 
> This is not a fic in which Voldy and friends are the misunderstood "good guys" while the "Light" is filled with stupid, ignorant, backward, foolish, self-righteous assholes.
> 
> Voldemort is a bad man who is going to do a lot of bad things. He's not a good man with strong morals and convictions, he's a man with strong sociopathic tendencies and is ruthless in the methods required to get what he wants. Sure, he's been humbled, but hasn't been given a great big conscience.
> 
> When he talks to Bella in that soft tone, that isn't him being a soft, kind, caring, man who only wants to do right by him. That's him putting on a different mask. This man is a cult leader, he has a charismatic personality and an ability to sway people with his silver tongue that would give the Devil himself a run for his money.
> 
> Part of that is him being different things to different people. With Lucius, he was more blunt, logical, and up front, and that's because Lucius, as I have him written here, thinks with his head. He's a pragmatist before he's a "pure blood". Bellatrix, on the other hand, thinks with her heart, so he becomes more passionate and empathetic to her.
> 
> He hasn't truly tricked her, he's not really lying, but he's layering it all with emotional bullshit that Bella eats up. Bullshit that Lucius sees through, which is why I have him make remarks and comments to Voldy, and he lets him get away with it.
> 
> Now, as for why I killed Rudolph, well, that's fairly simple.
> 
> I wanted to get him out of the way.
> 
> The details of that are a bit complicated, but more or less it had to do with how there were so many fan theories of how their marriage worked, not enough canon detail to satisfy me, and the fact that it could complicate things. Basically, Rudolph would not have been as aligned to Voldy as Bella was, and that would have resulted in complications later. So I decided to nip it in the bud. It was angst and conflict coming from a direction I didn't really want it to come from at the moment.
> 
> From a character-driven point of view, this is another glimpse at the man that is Tom Marvelo Riddle. He's a self-centered jealous control freak. Bellatrix is his, and he doesn't want to share her with a man like Rudolph. Plus, Rudolph was being insubordinate and shortsighted. It also made for a good rite of passage for Bella, firmly securing her eternal allegiance with him. At the same time, I can already see at least one person asking, "Is this going to become sexual?" Answer:
> 
> Probably not.
> 
> The Tom I have written here is inspired by various other works, namely Dexter from, well, Dexter. He isn't a very sexual creature. I'm also not one to just jump into pairings and fucking. At the same time, however, I'm also not one to just take cards off the table. It's possible, and if I find that the idea of Bella and Tom sounds good later on, or something for it comes up and works, then I'll go with it.
> 
> Until then, it'd be safer to assume that it's going to be an uneven and extremely close relationship, with Bella basically worshipping Tom, and Tom finding her a valued, loyal, and trusted agent.
> 
> Another thing that I'm drawing on for Tom is Penny Dreadful. Earlier I wrote that he had been brought back as a "perfect homunculus", whatever that meant.
> 
> Well here we see what that means. In terms of what a perfect homunculus actually is and can do, I did draw, a little, from FMA, but I mostly drew from Penny Dreadful and the original version of Frankenstein's monster. The modern iteration of the monster is often little more than a zombie. The original version was actually intelligent. It was basically human, just lacking knowledge about everything and have super human capabilities. In Penny Dreadful we see that and even more with their version, which I probably like most. I mean, hell, the first time we see the Creature it's when he literally rips someone in half with his bare hands.
> 
> That's the absurdly hard way. It takes upwards of 1000 lbs of force just to decapitate someone. Ripping them in half along a vertical axis? Much harder.


	4. Chapter 4: Ride the Lightning

"Well, you freed her, what now?"

"Good question, Lucius." I master began, taking a bite of the apple in my hands. "I'm still taking account of where the current state of affairs. I need to really know where everyone stands before I can make a move."

The two of us, my Left Hand and I, walked through the halls of the Castle in the cold empty lands of Siberia. I had since made it home, livening it up with furnishing and torches to warm it up. I had also keyed myself into the wards, but I hadn't managed to find out how to make myself the official "owner" of the fort. While it recognized me as an inhabitant and user, the sentient structure did not recognize me as the master yet.

But we would solve that soon enough.

"One of the things I need to do is take stock of the resources we do have. Namely what all Bella and Lilith can do."

"Don't you already know of Ms. Lestrange's capabilities?" Lucius asked, curious

"Actually she's going by Black now. Doesn't make much sense to keep her dead widower's name, now does it? Especially since she killed him." I corrected, "Plus I think it has a nice ring to it."

"'Bella Black'" I said, tasting the sound, "I like the alliteration."

"And Black is a proper name for a noble British wizarding house." Lucius admitted.

"That's quite bold of you to say, _Malfoy_." I smirked

Lucius scowled at me, knowing very well what I was saying, and knowing I had an undeniable point.

"Now, if we were in America, that would be a different story. You only need to be two or three generations deep in there to be considered a true American. They don't much care what you're ancestry is at that point. French, Slavic, Norwegian, it all blends into the same pot known to them as 'White'" I explained with a ghost of a smile.

"It's nice in a way, isn't it? They way that everyone can be on equal footing like that. Not having to worry about pedigree."

"I mean, bloody hell, one of the most American Car companies in the world, one of the ones they prides themselves so much on, is named after a Swede!" I exclaimed with a laugh.

"I find the way they're so willing to muddle their blood and pollute their purity revolting." Lucius commented with an air of superiority.

"Yes, well, look at who's the Superpower and who's the dying empire." I remarked.

"Isn't that what we're here to change?" The pale man commented.

"Quite right." I said with the grin of a shark. "Quite right."

And with that, I took another deep bite of my apple, the loud _Crunch_ of its give punctuating my statement.

"You never answered my question, by the way." Lucius brought up.

"Oh?" I inquired.

"Do you not already know of Ms. Black's capabilities?" Lucius repeated.

"Ah," I. "That."

"Well, in a word, yes, I did." I nodded, "But things have changed."

"In Azkaban I used an old Black Magic Ritual on her to combine her essence with those of her husband, as well as six other inmates." I explained.

Lucius's eyes widened at the possibilities of that, "You mean to say she's got the power of eight men?"

"More or less." I answered vaguely.

"More or _less_?" Lucius repeated, unsatisfied with the answer

"Well the ritual hasn't been performed in quite a while, and its results haven't been well documented. So it might not be 100% efficient, making it more like the strength of four men." I responded

"Besides" I smirked, taking a final crunching bite of the apple, finishing it off, "That's why I need to test her."

"I see." Lucius nodded.

"Where is she, anyways?" He wondered.

I opened my mouth, only to realize, to my concern, "…I don't know"

"…Oh dear."

* * *

In another end of the castle, a pair of mysterious Violet eyes locked gaze with a pair of eerie Emerald ones.

"Well, hello there little one." The woman in black smiled wolfishly.

"Hello." The small girl said quietly.

"So you're the one my master deemed worthy to be his heir." The woman mused.

"Yeah."

"Do you know who I am?" The woman asked

The girl pursed her lips, trying to recall.

"Are you…." She thought, trying to bring the memory to mind, "Belle?"

"Belle?" The woman recoiled

Then she began to laugh and laugh, before suddenly shoving her face right up to the small girl's

"My name is Bellatrix Black, my dear, and you had best remember that." She said with a grin that had far too much teeth.

The girl looked back and blinked, before tilting her head and saying with a ghost of a smile, "Father said you were barrel of laughs."

Bella blinked.

The woman in black, known to strike terror and horror into the hearts and minds of scores of wizards, the boogieman second only to her lord and master, blinked as a mere _girl_ brushed off her presence.

Children hated her, and she hated them. She made them cry, they were rarely ever fun. Some were, a precious few could be fun, but most were too fragile and weak to be any real fun.

But this girl

She _smiled_

Bellatrix Black took that as a challenge.

"Did he now?" She smiled pleasantly.

"Yeah," She nodded, then added with a somber frown, "But he hasn't been able to talk to me too much. Too busy."

"Oh, well…" Bella began

"Did he show you _Magic!_ " She exclaimed, suddenly pulling out her wand and sending loud electrical bolts flying out of it. They crackled and roared, flashing into walls all around the room in a sudden light show.

But…instead of retreating backwards in terror, instead of crying and whimpering, instead of acting like a normal child given such a shock, Lilith just…

She just watched.

Entranced by the bolts, mesmerized by the sparks. Far from being scared, her eyes lit up with a enthralled joy of an Arsonist looking at the flames.

Bellatrix pouted at her inability to scare the child. When one was able to strike terror into men and women, experienced adults who have seen the horrors of war, being unable to make a little girl so much a shiver was…embarrassing.

Lowering her wand to the ground and cutting off the magic flowing to it, ending the spell, she began to think of her next big idea to get a startle out of the girl.

_I have to toughen her up_ She reasoned. _I can't afford to let her be soft, not when she's the-_

"Um…Ms. Black?" The girl chirped up, pulling her from her thoughts.

"I-I wanted to show you something." The girl stuttered nervously, holding something behind her back.

"Oh?" Bella questioned with a raised brow.

"Yeah, you showed me something pretty, so I wanted to show you something back." Lilith explained.

Bellatrix almost sneered at how sickeningly sweet it was, but decided to take a look anyways. After all, what's the worst that could happen?

She was only a little girl.

* * *

"We should really find her."

"She's a capable woman, Lucius, I'm sure she's fine." I assured my Left Hand, trying not to think of all the ways Bellatrix could either get lost in this massive maze like castle. I also tried not to think of what happens when Bellatrix gets bored.

"Well, yes, I'm sure she's fine." Lucius admitted easily, as if it was a forgone conclusion.

"But what about Lilith."

"…Fuck."

Quickening their pace, we made it to Lilith's room in the castle in only a matter a minutes. Something we both knew was plenty of time for Bellatrix Black to reduce the girl to a puddle of tears.

What we found when we opened the door was not, however, what we had expected. We saw the burn marks on the floor and walls from her magic show earlier. We saw the presence of the infamous woman in black. And we saw the little girl with ashen grey skin, ebony black hair, and luminous emerald eyes, on her knees.

But what we also saw was Bellatrix Black, on the ground, surrounded by a myriad of pictures that the girl had arrayed around her. She was staring intently at them, looking at each one closely with a faint pleased smile on her face, as if she was actually impressed and entertained by the impromptu art gallery. The girl responsible for this art gallery was looking at the woman with a bright smile and eager eyes.

"Girls." I said, announcing my presence.

At once, two pairs of eyes, one green and one violet, snapped to his own red pair.

"Care to explain?" I said calmly, having quickly schooled my features into such a way to not give away the distress I had been feeling entering the room.

"Well, Lilith here was just showing me some very pretty pictures of hers." Bellatrix positively beamed.

_Well…that's not a great sign._ I thought, _of what, I'm not sure._

_But it's probably not great._

"Here, see?" She insisted, standing up and holding out one such picture to him.

I took it reluctantly, though I hid it well, and looked with my own two eyes, worried what kind of twisted scribble the two had come up with.

What I saw, however, could be described in three words.

Dark, Primal, Beauty.

The image held in my hands was clearly a drawing, using pencil and crayon. Despite that, it held an interesting blend of photorealism and twisted distortion. In some ways it felt like it was about to jump out of the page, and yet in others it felt like a product of a drug induced hallucination.

Or my worst nightmare.

It showed me the image of a beast, a werewolf, if my eyes didn't deceive me. The whole thing was dominated by four colors.

White, black, red, and green.

Its fur was white as snow, and held a silver sheen like a regal suit of armor. It appeared to stand in a dark forested area with visible moss growing on the trees. The greens were vibrant, but still seemed to play second fiddle to the real stars of the show.

The center of the piece was easily taken up by one thing, the maw of the white beast. Its white jaws holding in place bone white teeth stained with crimson blood. In its mouth it held the rather detailed depiction of a human large intestine, still connected to the guts in the body of the human it had taken them from. Much of the white fur around its mouth was covered in wet blood, with its lower jaw still dripping wet with the fluid.

The other thing that stood out on the page was the eyes. The burning red eyes, filled with hunger and cunning intellect that made me almost shiver. It was as if the beast was looking right at me. Measuring me.

Judging me.

All else was shrouded in an absolute blackness that seemed to swallow all hope and happiness.

"…I can see why you like this." I said finally, unsettled and intrigued by what I had found.

_This is exactly the kind of morbid and macabre thing Bella is into,_ I thought, handing the page to Lucius, who suppressed his urge to recoil in disgust to a mere twitch of his jaw and a raised brow.

"Ah…" Lucius said slowly, taking it all in,

"…good use of color." He congratulated Lilith, to which she blushed and looked toward the ground, averting her eye at the praise.

"Well, you've had your fill. Leave us." I commanded firmly, but not unkindly. My mind was already abuzz with possibilities for what this meant.

"As you wish, My Lord." They said in unison, Lucius distractedly, Bellatrix with a wide smile.

As they left the room together and before he closed the door, I could hear Bella say to Lucius, "I like her"

_Well I suppose that's a relief._ I all but sighed, happy that my Right Hand had gotten along with my Heir so well, but disturbed by the implications of that.

_Still, first things first_

"Lilith." I began, crouching down to her level as I got her attention.

"Yes?" She hummed, looking up at me obediently and expectantly.

"Where did you get the idea for this?" I asked, already having a good idea of the answer, but needing confirmation.

"Oh." She said simply.

"They're from my memories."

"…Not your nightmares?" I questioned.

I would have expected something like this to be the stuff of nightmares. Born of a horrid memory, sure, but I would have thought it to have also been haunting her dreams.

"No," She shook her head, "I don't have dreams."

"Ah," I said in understanding.

Most wizards would probably say that "meant' something. But I happened to know that this was actually somewhat normal.

Relatively.

She was having dreams, that's simply a thing humans did, it was part of REM sleep, and she just simply wasn't remembering them. For all intents and purposes, she wasn't having dreams. I knew all this, because I was in the same boat.

Sure, I had the occasional dream I remembered to a degree as I got up. And a few I had that still stuck with me, but the overwhelming majority of the time I didn't experience dreaming.

Then I blinked as a thought crossed my mind.

_But we're not human anymore, are we?_

We didn't actually need that much sleep, so it was possible we didn't have REM sleep at all.

"So Lilith, these are from your memories?" I asked, getting back on topic.

"Uh-huh." She nodded.

"Are these your deaths?" I asked, knowing the answer.

This time, far more slowly, she nodded again silently.

"So this," I said, holding up the image of the werewolf, "Is what killed you, what ripped you apart."

She shivered, the memory welling up inside her, and yet still she endured enough to nod quietly again.

"Hmm" I hummed in thought, leaning back and actually sitting on the floor.

I felt it strange that she was killed by werewolves. While the event itself wasn't impossible, it was, I felt it warranted investigation.

If these memories were vivid and intimate enough to enthrall her and allow her to draw such detailed drawings, then this could become a larger problem later on.

_I think I need to investigate this myself_ I thought

"Lilith," I began, "I'm going to do something. Something that won't be very fun, but we need to do."

"Y-you are?" She stammered, fear building up again within her small frame.

"Yes, Lilith, I'm going to use Legilimency on you." I announced. "I'm going to enter your mind."

She swallowed, not liking the sound of it.

"Do you have to?" She muttered in a weak voice.

"Yes." I said flatly, brokering no chance for argument.

Slowly, she nodded her head in submission.

"Good." I said briskly,

"Now, I'm going to need you to look into my eyes, Lilith." I said, cupping her jaw.

She looked up at me reluctantly, but obediently, she matched her emerald eyes with my own ruby pair, and I let my magic flow, sending magic into my eyes, into my mind, and through the window the soul of her glowing green eyes-

Suddenly there was a flash of white and black, the world abruptly losing all color. All combined with the sound of rushing wind all around me, the deafening roar blocking all else out.

Moments later I stumbled to my feet, out of breath.

Catching myself, I stood back to my full height, and found, to my surprise, that I was not where I thought I was. I figured perhaps I'd be back in the castle, given the fact I was standing again.

Instead, I stood in…space.

It was the only way I could really describe it. An endless black void known as space all around me, punctuated by stars. In the distance, I could see the blinding light of the sun, but it seemed…different. As if, despite its luminous presence, it was still dark where he was.

I looked around, trying to find anything else, any other distinguishing features, anything to guide me, but…

There was nothing

It was vast, empty, but filled with stars.

"Where the hell am I?" He whispered, his voice swallowed up by the emptiness. It was deathly silent, no ambient sound to be heard.

Looking down, there was also nothing below me, nothing for me to have been standing on. Despite that, it felt solid. Tapping my foot against the… "ground" I could hear the clacking of the sole of my boot against the hard "floor".

It was almost as if I was standing on hard wood, or glass.

"Strange" I murmured, wondering what all was happening.

"You're here." A voice rang out, small and surprised.

Spinning around, I found myself face to face with my Heir.

"Lilith, what is the meaning of this?" I wondered, borderline demanded.

"It's…my special place." She said cryptically, trying to find the words.

"Your…special place?" I responded quizzically.

"It's…it's where I was before I woke up again, and where I go when I sleep." She explained.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to get every inch of information out of this.

"Its call-" She began

She was stopped by the sound-no, not a sound, a… _feeling_. Like a vibration of reality itself. We could feel something shifting around us. I began to hear, but not hear, the sound that wasn't a sound of something all around me.

Startled, I looked around, trying to find the sign of the sound that wasn't a sound.

"Oh no." Lilith murmured, her eyes wide with horror.

"What?" I exclaimed, thoroughly unnerved.

I was, or should be, in her mind. Technically I should be going through her memories, but its possible I was in something like her mindscape. In most cases, for a little girl especially, this wouldn't be too bad. Considering my experience with various minds over the years, this was doubly the case.

If there was one thing I learned, however, it's that a person's mindscape is a very strange and dangerous place, where standard rules and ideas of what was strength and what wasn't no longer applied.

But this wasn't just a normal mind. This was the mind of a little girl who had died and been reborn. This was the mind of a little girl who could remember her past lives, in particular, her past deaths. Most dangerously of all, this was the mind of a little girl with terrible power, plagued with even more terrible memories of horrific pain and suffering.

And I was in its home.

"This is bad." She mumbled, mostly to herself as she began to back away in fear, not of me, but _for_ me. "This is very bad."

"How bad?" I grimaced, looking around me for the slightest sign of… _whatever_ was around us.

But no matter how much I looked I couldn't see it. I could hear the not-sound, but I coul-

Then I saw it.

Just a flicker of movement on the edge of my vision.

As if… _something_ was there, but always darting behind me, always just out of sight.

I bit down on the fear welling up on me. It had been a long time since I had truly felt fear. Fear was something I liked to think I had conquered.

But…to fear is to be human.

To be alive.

It was that primal part of your brain, that ancient part of your soul that told you to be scared of the dark. To be wary of the unknown.

To fear the thing crawling up right behind you.

"You need to leave!" She squealed, arms drawn up to her chest in fright.

"Lilith, just tell me what it is." I said, crouching down to grasp her by the shoulders.

As primal as fear was, it was still the thing of beasts. You could conquer the fear of the unknown simply by shining a light on it. All I had to do was figure out what I was dealing with. Unfortunately, I was almost completely in the dark.

"It's not safe here." She murmured, her eyes wide and unfocused with terror, I wasn't quite sure she was even listening to me.

"Why isn't it safe, Lilith?" I continued, desperately trying to get her to speak to me.

All the while I heard the not-sound reverberating through my being, the feeling of something slithering around in the celestial darkness.

"Lilith, talk to me." I insisted, trying to get her to look me in the eyes.

"It's not safe, it's not safe." She kept on rambling, over and over.

"Lilith, ju-" I stopped, seeing something out of the corner of my eye.

I could see, there… _something_ in the darkness of the stars. Something in my mind was burning, _urging_ me that there was something there, something I could see.

I strained my eyes looking, knowing something was there, knowing I could find the answers I sought, if only I could shed a light on it all.

"No no no no" I heard her mutter, her hands pawing at my shirt, trying to get my attention.

But the star field before me held my attention.

_Where. Are. You_. I thought, glaring into the abyss, pouring my magic into my eyes to try and pierce the veil.

I ignored the sounds that weren't sounds, ignored the feelings of shaking and slithering coming from all around me.

"You need to leave!" She frantically continued, tears trailing down her face as she desperately tried to warn me of the danger.

"I…I think I can see it…" I began to say, my eyes beginning to see it, an image finally taking shape in all the darkness.

And it was…it was massive. Absolutely massive. Beyond any other creature I had ever seen before. Something that made even the Basilisk under Hogwarts seem like nothing more than a small worm, writhing in the filth of the mortal world. It was beyond it, it was incredible, it was-

-it was burning.

_I_ was burning.

"You need to leave!" she yelled.

My mouth run dry, all words stolen from my lips. I couldn't…I couldn't think. My mind, my eyes, it all burned, and it hurt. It hurt to even _think_ about what it was, to truly try and even _comprehend_ what lay before me, in all it glorious might.

And as it gazed back at me, I realized I was not even an _ant_ compared to its magnificence.

" **GET OUT!"** She roared.

And like the flash of lightning, everything was lit up with an incredibly, blinding light, the roar of wind and thunder in my ears intolerable, I felt like I was being ripped apart, pulled into little strings of myself and torn into a great gaping hole in-

I blinked.

I just…blinked.

I took a deep breath, squeezing my eyes shut before opening them back up to the world around me.

I was back in the castle, kneeling on the ground. My eyes still burned, but I could feel my magic working its way around them, healing them. Now it was little more than a faint tingling.

Then I realized there was a weight on my chest, and my shirt felt somewhat damp. Looking down, I saw that Lilith had pressed her head into me, crying into my chest as her frail little arms gripped my shirt tightly, pulling her closer.

I felt…awkward.

I wasn't entirely sure what to do, or even what had happened.

I was, to my befuddlement, out of my depth.

Hesitantly I raised an arm, before dropping my left hand atop her black haired head. I began to absentmindedly rub it, something I had seen other…parents…do when their child was in distress. To that end, I did my best to replicate it, all while just…processed…what had happened.

_What_ _ **had**_ _happened, anyways?_ I wondered. _I was trying to use legilimency on her, but something unusual happened._

I was in her mindscape, instead of just her memories. Or, at least, it was probably her mindscape. I wasn't too sure what else it could have been, but mindscapes aren't supposed to have…

_That_ in them

Whatever _it_ was.

_I…I can't even remember what I saw_ I thought, shaking my head in an effort to clear it of it's confusion, to no avail, _Just that Lilith was panicking, something was out there, and then she…_

My eyes went wide as I realized what had happened, at least in part.

"Lilith" I said, trying to get her attention.

She sniffled, trying to stop her crying, and pushed herself far enough away to look up at me with those iridescent emerald eyes.

"Father," She began to whimper.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to happen, I just-" She tried to say in a hoarse voice.

"Sshh." I interrupted, placing a finger upon her lips to silence her.

"Its okay, Lilith, its ok." I said, trying to calm her down.

"B-but you almost got…" She trialed off

"Got what?" I asked, hoping for answers.

"I…I don't know." She mumbled, unable to look me in the eyes. "I don't know what happens, I just know it's bad."

"And so to save me, you pushed me out of your head?" I continued for her.

She nodded her head silently.

"I'm sorry, I just-" She began, genuine fear of rejection, of retaliation, in her eyes.

"Lilith, it is fine." I admonished

"More than fine. Not only did you save me, but you also forced me from your mind." I added with more enthusiasm.

"I know." She cringed,

"Do you understand how incredible that is?" I all but beamed down at her.

"I-uh-no?" She said, confused by my response.

"Lilith, I have been practicing the mind arts for decades, and am one of the few people in the world who could be considered a master at it." I began to explain. "And yet you, by all accounts a novice and but a child, managed to eject me from you mind, something even an adult with moderate training would find difficult."

"You didn't just save me, Lilith." I grinned, "You've impressed me."

"I-I have?" She stammered, bewildered by my praise of what she thought was insubordination.

"Oh yes, you have, my dear." I said, my grin gaining a mad tone,

"And it is more than enough to show that you are worthy to be my heir." I continued, a hand reaching down and cupping her chin, bringing her head up to look at me, all whilst I rubbed the cheeks of her blossoming smile fondly.

_True, had I been in my right mind I probably could have fought her on it_ I admitted, _But either way, she is a natural occlumens the likes of which the wizarding world has never seen._

"I have no doubt, that one day you'll be able to plow through the walls of that old fool without losing a sweat." I smirked.

"…Thank you, father." She beamed up at me, her face lighting up like the sun under my words.

"I promise not to- _Cough!_ "

Suddenly she was wracked with a fit of cough. She pulled a hand up to her face, trying to cup her mouth and shield her breath.

Then she stopped, she paused, a pained look on her face as she looked up at me, blood splattered upon the edges of her mouth and upon her head as she said one word with such fear, such confusion, and such complete terror it sent a shiver down my spine.

"Father?"

And then she collapsed into my arms.

* * *

"Severus!" I roared, bursting through his door with the limp form of Lilith in my arms.

He started in his chair, shaken from his experiments. Fortunately he appeared to simply be in the paper stage, putting together lists and writing down ideas and hypotheses. Still, the bags under his dark eyes, seen behind his increasingly greasy hair, told me that he hadn't gotten much sleep recently, likely too involved in his experiments to waste time sleeping.

A mentality I could understand.

What I couldn't understand, and would not tolerate, is what had happened to my Heir.

"My Lord?" He startled, not knowing how to respond to my intrusion.

Before I answered him I gently laid Lilith upon the table, one I cleared with a simple wave of my hand. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the man flinch as several bottles containing various liquids crashed upon the ground. With the girl resting on the table I whirled around to face Severus, a snarl upon my face.

"I am _extremely_ unhappy with you." I sneered at the man. Wordlessly I twisted a ring on my left hand, and another on my right, infusing a bit of magic into each.

Severus cringed before me, fear flickering in his eyes as he no doubt imagined me inflicting terrible pain upon him for his actions. He knew that I had punished people quite painfully for simple perceived slights, none they didn't even need to be guilty, they just had to be in the right place at the right time.

Before I could open my mouth again Lucius and Bella walked through another set of doors into the room, no doubt using the code based system to get here.

"My lord, you called?" Lucius asked cautiously.

"Do you require our aid, Master?" Bella inquired with a more cheerful and innocent expression.

"Lucius." I spat, turning to him, "You promised me that you performed the ritual _correctly_."

"I…did, my Lord." He said, his tone one of confusion.

"Then explain _that_!" I snarled, furiously pointing to the girl behind me.

Lucius took one look at Lilith, her already pale grey skin looking almost white, crimson stains marring her lips and chin, and another trail of blood crawling down from her nose, and recoiled in revulsion and fear. Bella gasped, her jaw dropping in horror, and her fists clenching in fury.

"What happened Severus? I thought you said we were _perfect homunculi_?" I enunciated, each word thrown at him with the verbal force of an artillery shell. "Does _that_ look perfect?!"

"I-I-I don't…" Severus stammered, horrified by what had happened to the last remnant of the woman he loved, to the girl he had sworn to protect not even a week ago.

"Well?" I growled, quickly losing patience.

"I did everything correctly, my lord!" He swore, grasping for answers himself.

"My _Heir_ says otherwise." I said caustically, my every word punctuated by another step towards him. He started backing away as I encroached upon his personal space, but soon found himself backed up against his desk.

"I-I did everything p-perfectly, my Lord." He frantically responded, the gears spinning wildly in his head as he struggled to find the answer.

"I took every precaution, I measured the amounts _perfectly_ , I _triple_ checked everything to make sure I had _exactly_ how much I need to-" Then he stopped, his eyes widening.

"…to bring you back…" He murmured, trailing off as he finally hit something, as a monstrous realization came upon his mind. "Oh merlin."

"What. Did. You. _Do?!_ " I snarled into his face.

He seemed to go limp, all but collapsing on his desk as the thought sunk in. "I…I measured exactly how much I would need to bring back your soul."

"And _only_ your soul."

I paused my assault on him as I considered his answer. I processed it, my experience in all things about the ceremony, potions, and rituals in general analyzing and breaking down all of it. Then, finally, it all made sense.

"But not enough for hers." I muttered numbly.

It was…hard to stay angry at the man at that realization. I was still angry, make no mistake, but it was no fault of Severus. He had no idea that Lilith was bound to me, that she could come back at all. There was no way he could have known to make preparations for her.

"I prepared what I did to bring you back, my Lord, but not enough for the girl. I made precautions, set up redundancies, in case something unexpected happened, but never something…like this…" He continued, his head tilted down in shame. More than shame, I honestly couldn't imagine what he was feeling right now.

"To be honest, the redundancies are probably the only reason why she formed a body at all. It's simply that the body is…incomplete." He explained despondently.

"Am _I_ complete?" I asked, wondering if perhaps some of my…"perfection" was sacrificed to construct her.

"Possibly, I honestly can't say for certain since, again, there has been no precedent for _any_ of this. I don't know what all a Perfect Homunculus is supposed to be capable of." He sighed.

"For all I know you should be able to use your body as a weapon, transforming it at your will to become whatever you needed to be." He admitted.

"So are you saying Miss Lilith is slated to die?" Lucius asked with a stern frown, obviously displeased, but not as invested in the girl.

"What? No! Lily can't die!" Bella exclaimed.

Severus flinched at Bella's pet name, as well as a reminder of his failures. "I-I don't know. She could either be plagued with bad health for eternity, or a failing body that collapses in a few weeks."

"That is not comforting." I scowled at him.

"I'm afraid that without a baseline to work with, I just. Don't. Know." Severus said, frustrated and drained.

"What about solutions?" I asked, my mind switching from it's more emotional state towards its more logical and objective driven one. I pushed the feeling of anger and frustration at finding the perfect Heir, only to lose her to something no one could have predicted, out of my mind.

"Solutions?" Lucius asked. "You mean to save her?"

"That girl holds potential the likes of which I've never seen, Lucius." I answered, not liking the implications of what he was saying.

"Is it really that special?" He asked raising a brow, "Are you certain it's not something you could find somewhere else with a decent look?"

"That girl is unique, Lucius. Despite being, for all intents and purposes, 6, she managed to push me out of her mind. Me!" I explained with a stern frown that brokered no argument. I kept to myself, however, the events that transpired _within_ her mind.

He blinked, drawing a blank at how to respond to such a feat, "I…see."

"Severus." I snapped, turning back to him, "What about solutions."

"Well, I don't really-"He stalled, frantically looking at his notes and books for ideas.

"What about the Philosopher's stone?" I asked, "Is that not supposed to grant everlasting life? Let alone being a key ingredient in making perfect homunculi."

At my focused demeanor he took a breath and recentered himself. "Yes, that would probably work, but..."

"But Flamel is the only one who knows where it is." I sighed, bracing my hands upon his desk as I leaned down, suddenly feeling quite exhausted.

"Yes." Snape nodded with a frown.

"What about the Vampires?" Bella suggested.

I turned to her with a brow raised, the idea coming from, seemingly, nowhere.

"I mean, Vampires are immortal, they've come back from the dead, are undead themselves, and in general resemble both of you." She pointed out, "Not to mention they can spread their effects to others and have magic on their own."

"It just seems like there's a connection there we can use." She smiled somewhat nervously, not sure if it was a good idea or not.

We all stopped for a moment, staring at her. The idea twisted itself in my head, being deconstructed, analyzed, and built on.

Finally, I felt a grin crawl its way upon my face.

"A brilliant idea, Bella." I smirked.

"That _could_ work." Severus noted.

"Bringing in the Vampires again could add to our strength substantially, especially if we got the backing of a noble clan, as opposed to simply a few nests residing in Britain." Lucius admitted.

"Good point." I nodded, "But best not to put all our eggs in one basket"

"Any other ideas?"

"Well…there _is_ a certain area where resurrection and incredible feats are prevalent." Severus began reluctantly.

"Oh?" Lucius said, intrigued.

I was at well, but the way he was saying it…

"It's rather famous among muggles, less well known in the wizarding community…" He continued, "The middle east has quite a lot of legends…"

"Severus…you're not suggesting what I think you are, are you?" I began hesitantly, hoping he was wrong.

"What?" Lucius asked.

"Am I missing something?" Bella chimed in, perplexed.

I glanced at the greasy haired man, only to see him shrug helplessly. Sighing, I turned to face him.

"First off, there are the 1001 Arabian nights…" I began, starting off with the easier one.

"And then there are the Abrahamic religions." I finished.

"Abrahamic religions?" Lucius asked.

"Christianity, Judaism, and Islam." I listed, "Most notably coming to mind is the story of Jesus Christ, who rose from the dead thanks to a miracle from God."

"God? Really?" Lucius snorted skeptically

"I'm not saying that God has to be real." Severus defended, "But the amount of miracles and legends coming from there…considering how little we _truly_ know about magic, it's not impossible that there is some truth to the legends."

"It wouldn't be the first time that people have theorized that there was a magical answer for the Muggle religions." I pointed out, giving the thought some weight.

"If I also remember correctly, anyone who went looking there never found anything." Lucius pointed out.

"Or they never returned." Bella added

"Seems awful suspicious if you ask me." She grinned.

"Agreed." I smiled, "There's certainly _something_ there, and perhaps something that can be of use to us."

"Well in that case." Lucius sighed, "You might as well head to China."

"What's in China?" Bella asked.

"I looked there for the ritual, Chinese Alchemy also sought out immortality and eastern Asian Magical practices has many differences to Western." Severus explained, "It's not impossible that they might have solutions we haven't thought of."

"There are also several underground magically aware groups in eastern Asia, particularly in China and Japan." Lucius continued, "It wouldn't be a bad idea to touch base there and see about making allies and forging bonds."

"No it wouldn't…"I considered, rubbing my chin in thought.

"Neither would the fountain of youth in the Americas." I murmured

"Unfortunately," Severus began, grabbing our attention. "I cannot journey to those places myself. Not without Dumbledore growing suspicious."

"And I have too many duties to attend to." Lucius agreed.

"I could go." Bella offered.

"No, no." I waved her down, "That would be suspicious as well. If the well-known and dangerous servant of Lord Voldemort want globe-trotting the Light would definitely be suspicious. And all they'd need was a rumor."

"In fact, you going dark would be enough to set them on edge. They think of you as a mindless beast, Ms. Black, I have no doubt they expect you to start lashing out as soon as possible." Lucius pointed out.

At our words, Bella visibly deflated, thinking she wouldn't be as helpful as she could have been.

"Don't worry Bella, I have quite a number of tasks for you to do here at home." I comforted her with a toothy smirk, something that caused her to perk up.

"Well if none of us are going…who shall you send?" Severus asked.

"Myself." I announced.

There was a momentary silence in the room, as it just flowed through all their minds, before it finally crystallized.

"That's not a bad idea." Lucius admitted.

"Lucius!" Bella exclaimed.

"That seems…dangerous." Severus commented.

"By all rights." Lucius began, "Our Lord is supposed to be dead. As is his Heir. No one is looking for them, and even if they were, they don't know what they're looking for. They look too different."

Severus scowled, but could see the logic.

"Plus, I'd like to think I can handle myself." I said with a grin that held far too many teeth.

"True…" Bella trailed off.

"But why bring Lilith?" Severus asked, obviously worried about the girl

"Simple." I began

"It would be much easier to treat her if I brought her with me, instead of taking the cure to them. Plus, a fit man travelling alone, especially if he's armed, is something that can attract the wrong kind of attention. But a father traveling with his young daughter is something _far_ more disarming." I explained. "If they see me armed, they're less likely to see me as an aggressor, and more likely to see me as an overprotective single father, something they can sympathize with and understand."

"Not to mention the fact that I want to raise her under my influence, truly make her my Heir." I continued. "What better way than to go on a world tour with her? Just the two of us."

"He has a point." Lucius agreed.

Severus seemed to sag onto his wooden desk, but didn't say anything further.

"I think it's nice that the two of you will get to go on such a fun little trip." Bella grinned, "Going around the world, seeing new places, meeting new people, spreading the truth of your power to those who haven't been blessed by it yet."

"And there's another benefit." I spoke up, my mind abuzz with plans, schemes, and possibilities.

"There's almost no chance of her running into James Potter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuun!
> 
> In case you're confused, James Potter is still alive.
> 
> Surprise.
> 
> And yes, I've just thrown a second wrench through canon.
> 
> No, James isn't going to be an asshole you can easily hate.
> 
> No, Lilith doesn' have some twin brother who's living it up like a rich motherfucker without a care in the world, being a piece of shit you could also easily hate.
> 
> And no, Dumbledore isn't going to be easy to hate either.
> 
> If I've made someone easy to hate, there's likely going to be a twist somewhere. Either they just won't be really relevant, they get dealt with quickly enough, or they are actually super important and can't be thrown away despite how much everyone hates them.
> 
> One of those.
> 
> Oh, also, the twist with Lilith kinda-sorta-maybe dying.
> 
> Yeah, well, couldn't make it too easy for them?
> 
> So Lilith and Tom shall be embarking on an epic world tour.
> 
> Now, from here, there are two options.
> 
> A: I skip towards the beginning of Hogwarts and have this stuff be backstory I refer to and flesh out.
> 
> B: I go through the whole world tour in deep detail.
> 
> Warning, if I go with plan B, we probably won't see the start of Hogwarts till about chapter 33. Maybe 17 if I'm feeling like speeding things up.
> 
> Point is, it'll kind of be a while. I'll let you guys voice your opinions, and it may or may not sway me either way.
> 
> But, I will say plan B has more feels.
> 
> And murder
> 
> so much murder.
> 
> Also Lilith may or may not have an Eldritch abomination in her head.
> 
> Anyways, I finally got around to seeing Fantastic Beasts. It was alright, nothing too special. Though it has given me some new ideas.
> 
> Other parts, though, I'm just going to do whatever the fuck I want. Like the American Wizarding society.
> 
> I'm honestly tempted to have American Wizards have as much of a thing for guns as normal Americans.
> 
> This is because, well, America was built on guns. Literally.
> 
> Also lots of corpses.
> 
> But regardless, guns are an important part of American culture. If any group of wizards would be onboard with the idea of using guns, it'd be the Americans.
> 
> Still, I'll try see what all I can use and what balance I can strike.
> 
> Regardless, I'll need to do a lot of world building for Lilith and Tom heading to Eastern Europe, the Middle East, and Eastern Asia. Part of that might involve taking cues from other worlds. I'm not going to explicitly pull something in wholesale (probably), but it will give me a place to start.
> 
> I've also made Tom's pov 1st person.
> 
> On accident.
> 
> See, I was writing the story when about halfway through I just slipped into first person, and finished it like that. I only realized what I did later, at which point I was like, "Fuck it, it's not like I'll have too many other perspectives in the story"
> 
> Course, I say that now. Either way, let me know what you thought of that.
> 
> Oh, and, this story has done something I didn't expect and got to 100 follows in just 3 chaps. I'm impressed.
> 
> And as a result this story gets to live. Technically it's tied with Vanguard, so I'll have to deal with organizing that, but the point is that I'll 100% be continuing this.
> 
> And hopefully I'll be updating it again sometime this month.
> 
> We'll see.
> 
> One final point.
> 
> Lilith. If you didn't notice it before, you've probably noticed it by now.
> 
> Yes, this story is connected to Madness in a way. How? Not telling yet, but you might be able to figure it out.
> 
> Now, if you haven't read Madness, don't worry about it. While there is a thread connecting them, you don't need one to enjoy the other. I wouldn't do that to you guys.
> 
> But for now, see you later.


	5. Chapter 5: Recall

_**6 Years ago** _

A man with wild black hair sat in a stone brick room wearing a dark leather coat over his black shirt and pants. Simple clothes, yet covered in singe marks, dust, and blood that gave away implications of what had gone on earlier.

He sat in chains binding his arms and legs. Rather than the face of angry defiance most people would have known him for, his head was bowed, his hair shading his dark eyes. There wasn't but a drop of hope in him. He was resigned to his fate. What seemed to be a broken, tired, man.

"Sirius Black." A voice called out

His head slowly tilted up, not knowing what why it called, but too emotionally drained to care.

He had failed.

He had failed everything he had sworn himself to protect, and he had even failed at getting vengeance. There was nothing left for him now.

He looked up to see an Auror enter the room. He was tall and lanky, something clear even despite the bulky Auror cloak worn on his shoulders, and seemed to be poorly suppressing a nervous look on his face.

"Y-you're being released." He stuttered.

_Released?_ Sirius thought, stunned by the words coming from the man's mouth. He couldn't believe his ears. Sure, he was innocent, but the hours leading up to entering this room had all but sapped any and all hope left in him.

"Gorbins!" A voice shouted.

The Auror jerked up at the sound of his name, "M-ma'am?"

Another Auror, one more familiar to Sirius's eyes, entered the room. Despite the fact that the male Auror stood a whole head higher than the woman, she managed to tower over him with sheer presence and her face etched from stone. Her light grey hair was pulled into a functional bun behind her head, with a few strand escaping it and falling down her back. Despite her hair, she wasn't that old. She only had a couple years on Sirius himself.

"Gorbins, get back out there and deal with the other folks milling about out there." She bit out, "I'll deal with this mess myself."

"Y-yes ma'am" He nodded, looking like he couldn't leave the room fast enough.

Not terribly surprising all things considered. He was Sirius Black. He had heard the things they had been saying about him. A deranged murderer, an oath breaker, betrayer, so on and so forth. All of them stung deeply at first, not just because of the severity of the crimes, but because he was innocent. In his murderous haze he had fallen right into that little rat's trap, and had been played like a fiddle. He couldn't even remember how long he'd been in this room, trying to get someone, _anyone_ , to believe him. Eventually he had just shut down, too drained to continue.

And then there was the woman before him, Amelia Bones. A premier Auror renowned and respected and tended to care more about the spirit than the letter of the law, not that she disregarded either. From his, admittedly limited, interaction and viewing of muggle media Sirius knew she was, in many ways, what muggles might call a "Supercop".

Between the two of them, it was quite obvious that the poor Gorbins felt like he was stuck between two mountains of personality.

After Gorbins all but fled the room, her light blue eyes flitted to Sirius's own grey pair. "Mister Black."

"Madam Bones." He replied in a dead voice, only able to barely keep up with the most basic social conventions.

Her face contorted for a moment, twisting and turning like the violent seas as she chewed something over in her mind.

"I must apologize." She started.

At that, he startled, surprised by the words.

"It seems your case was…mishandled…in it's haste." She added.

"Mishandled?" He repeated, confused.

"Yes…" She began, "…You see, due to the chaos of the past day or so, we've been overtaxed and stressed her in the DMLE, and as a result, we've made some mistakes."

"After Aurors found the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Potter burned to the ground, they soon found you, their reported secret keeper, caught red-handed in the aftermath of a massive explosion that killed over a dozen muggles which placed the Statute of Secrecy in jeopardy." She said, repeating the events of the previous evening, "Since things seemed so cut and dry, not to mention the anger at the thought of you turning traitor and being responsible for the deaths of several rather well-loved individuals, they hurried things along to get you incarcerated in Azkaban."

"The Ministry is out for blood and you were served up on a silver platter." She summarized.

He knew that that was what would probably be going to happen. Several of the guards had boasted such things to him during his time here. That didn't mean it didn't hurt to hear that he was being used as a scapegoat in this time of chaos.

"But…it seems today is your lucky day." She continued.

He almost snorted, a _Lucky day? What, do I get some pudding with my beatings?_

"You have a visitor, a rather…key witness, who has proven your innocence beyond a shadow of a doubt." She explained.

Turning to the door, she appeared to usher someone to come in.

Then **_He_ ** appeared **.** A man with jet black hair that seemed to refuse to remain ordered, hazel eyes hidden between glasses, and pale complexion.

"James…" Sirius said breathlessly

James Potter stood before him, a man he thought dead.

"Hey, Sirius." The man replied with a tired smile.

"I…I thought you were at the house…that you…"

James seemed to sag into the chair, years of exhaustion flowing out from a once boisterous energetic and vibrant man that Sirius respected and loved as a brother in all but blood. Madam Bones gave a simple once over of the two of us, before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her with a soft _click_.

"The Longbottoms contacted me. Apparently, they had left some of their baby supplies or something at our place the other night when they stayed for dinner. I went over and gave the bag to them in person." He began to explain, bring a hand up to rub his tired eyes. "I ended up popping open a bottle with Frank, and got to chatting while Hannah put Neville to bed."

Then he let out a small grin, "I was actually considering just spending the night there, sleeping on the couch, rather than head home. We were just about to pop open another bottle."

Sirius gulped. "…Were?"

The grin turned dark, gaining an unsettling edge. "Yes."

"Then." He began, "Your cousin's husband and brother in law arrived. The Lestranges."

Sirius gulped.

"Don't know how they found the place, or how they got in. Thank Merlin Bellatrix wasn't there." He rambled a bit,

"Regardless," He shook his head, "They obviously weren't expecting me. I helped Frank and Hannah knock out and tie up the brothers. It took a while, at some point one of them tried to escape but Frank and I chased him down. All in all, no one was harmed."

"So I'm feeling pretty good, I try to floo Dumbledore, but apparently the whole floo network's jammed or something. I head to the ministry, turns out they're swamped because Voldemort seems to have attacked everywhere at once in some massive offensive." He explained.

"And, _somehow_ , this means it takes an entire _day_ for the ministry to inform me that that my wife and child are dead, and my best friend arrested for it." He spat with such anger and vitriol it almost made Sirius recoil. His hands trembled with rage as folded them together on the table, propping them up on his elbows. His hair shadowed his face, bowed in suppressed anger, but Sirius could see his teeth clenching tightly, his whole body trembling.

"James, I…I'm sorry," Sirius said, looking away, unable to look at his friend and not knowing what to say, not in the face of this.

James took a breath, "It's not your fault"

"I feel like I should have seen this coming, been able to do something to prevent it," Sirius replied, guilt and loss filling him.

James remained silent for a moment before she tilted his head back up.

Just a hair.

Just enough to let him look Sirius in the eyes.

"…who." He said.

"Peter," Sirius responded

James remained disturbingly silent.

"…where is he?"

"I chased him down after I realized what happened." Sirius began, "He lead me to a street filled with muggles. There…"

He sighed, "It _looks_ like he blew himself up, and tried to kill me in the process."

Sirius let out something of a wry, if fragile, grin, trying to give the room some humor, "As you can see by my handsome form, it didn't work."

Neither did Sirius's attempt.

At James's stony face, he continued, "From what they've told me, the only thing left of Peter is pieces."

"So…he's dead." James surmised.

"That's what they tell me," He confessed, leaning back in his chair, "Though…if I'm honest, I don't think Peter's the type to kill himself. He's too much of a sniveling coward."

He sighed, almost wistfully, as he looked at one of the walls of the room, as If gazing out to the rest of the world, "He's probably out there, somewhere, running around and trying to hide, fearing for his life, but thinking he got one over on us all."

"Good."

Sirius startled at the words, not expecting such a response from the idea that the man who betrayed them, who brought this all upon them, is running around free as a bird.

"Good?" Sirius said, incredulously.

Here, Sirius got a good look at his eyes. His bloody red eyes still wet with tears. But there was more than just sadness in there. There was rage.

Not normal garden variety rage. Not the kind of rage you get when you stub your toe, or when someone punches you in the face. This isn't the anger of a man who's simply been slighted or someone who just feels like they've been merely wronged.

No, this was the soul deep rage of a man who's lost _everything_ he held dear. This was the rage of a man who's all but fallen to pieces, whose only being held together by the rage burning in his soul.

He didn't see a simple fire of anger in that man's eyes. He didn't a simple blaze of rage in the person he called his friend.

He saw an inferno of cold, bone charring, fury.

When he looked into James Potter's eyes that night, he saw Wrath given form.

He saw Hate.

And he felt Fear.

"That means I get to kill him myself."

* * *

**Present day**

"Bloody Hell." A tired voice groaned

In Wizarding Britain, there were a number of pubs. Not as many as muggles might think, but far more than the average wizard expected. They came in various shapes and sizes, different levels of class and wealth about them. Some new and "fresh", others old and dingy.

The Drunken Stump was something of a paradoxical establishment.

It was dingy and roguish, having the feelings of being somewhat seedy, not quite on the up and up. Every surface seemed dirty and old, like a permanent layer of filth over everything. Groups of customers gathered together at the round wooden tables and gambled loudly and fiercely over various events shown on enchanted boards on the walls. Other patrons exchanged sacks heavy with coin in return for bets won and lost, or for goods and services, all of which weren't necessarily legal, strictly speaking.

At the same time, it felt warm, inviting, trusty worthy, and even honorable, in its own special way. The stony fireplace kept the place warm, matching the candlelight warm glow. Despite the dubious legality of all the actions taking place in the room, everyone was all smiles. The bets were taken in good humor between friends, and the anger came in short flashes of passion, quickly swept away under the tide of alcohol and revenge. It brought to mind the phrase "Honor among Thieves."

Truly, and applicable description if there ever was one.

And in one corner of the room sat a man. A man with shoulder length wild black hair, pale skin, and a well-groomed black beard. He wore a frown upon his face as he looked at the score boards on the wall. His team had just made a mistake that might cost them the game. It wasn't his favorite team, but he liked them, thought they were plucky. More importantly, they were a nice distraction from the conversation he knew was coming.

It was a discussion he dreaded, but he knew it needed to happen. Right now he couldn't do anything about, however. He was waiting for the other participant in this discussion to arrive. As of now, he couldn't do much other than sit and wait for the inevitable.

So he raised his drink and looked at the scoreboard once more, while he waited for the other party to arrive.

It didn't take long.

"Padfoot!" A voice called out.

"Prongs." He replied with a strained grin, already knowing who it was.

He turned around to look at James and had to hold back a sigh at seeing what had happened to him.

Some men, in his position, would have become overcome with grief. They would have collapsed upon themselves, shutting themselves in and become shadows of their former selves. They might have let themselves go, become fat or skinny, losing any edge they had.

James was not these men.

Oh, in certain ways, he had become a shadow of his former self, but he had not faded, let himself grow weak.

Instead, he had changed. Rage had tempered this man, and Sirius wasn't entirely sure what it had left.

He still had messy black hair, he still had those glasses he desperately needed due to his abysmal eyesight, and he still wore that carefree grin. But now that grin was marred by a scar, a vertical line going down his lip to the left of his nose. Another one started at his right cheek, before arcing up to his hairline.

Rather than his previous, more open and casual, attire, now he wore a heavily warded dark colored long coat that stopped around his shins. Beneath it, he wore a white shirt with a black tie and knuckle dusters on his hands.

All in all, he was in his more rough attire. Either in spite or in memory of his wife, he had come to wear more muggle attire. Suits and ties became commonplace, an occasional hat here and there, even a simple tee shirt once or twice. It was something that tended to piss off the older purebloods, as he flaunted it all in front of them, but acted as if he was none the wiser. It was made worse by the fact that he was actually using his family's capital again.

James was now the sole member of the Potter family living, at least of the main branch. He probably had technical relatives scattered across inbreed magical Britain somewhere. Maybe even a few squibs.

Regardless, he now had the influence of an ancient and noble house, and he was actually using it. He was making waves, limited as they were. Sirius knew he could be doing more, at present most of what he did was simply ensuring half-bloods and muggle borns had jobs. Either by fighting for them to have jobs, or, much more likely, he employed them himself.

Officially, most of them were just maids, servants, maybe even a vassal or two.

In reality, they filled a variety of roles, from accounting, managing his assets, to being his own personal information gatherers. And each and every one of them felt like they owed James their lives. While that might have been true, especially in current magical Britain society, James certainly didn't act like it.

Now, Sirius knew that James could be doing more because of one simple, if problematic, fact.

Sirius knew what James _really_ did with his spare time.

He could tell from the scar on his lips. From the way his eyes shifted about the room. The way his boots silently hit the floor. By that gleam in his eyes.

And by the three knives he had on him.

That was another thing the purebloods didn't like, the fact that James actually had knives. And that he was actually good at them. But as far as they knew, he only had one, the one obviously sheathed on the front of his belt. Most didn't notice the other two, thankfully.

Sirius wondered how they would react if they knew about everything else.

"So," James said, setting himself down in the chair with an easy grin, "What did you want to talk about?"

Despite the smile on his face, Sirius knew his friend too well to think that all was truly well. He also wasn't dumb enough to think his friend hadn't heard the news himself through his sources.

"Bellatrix."

"Ah." James nodded.

"You've heard?" Sirius assumed.

"A little," James said casually, glancing at the menu.

"The paper's supposed to be coming out in two days," Sirius mentioned, taking a sip of his drink.

James scribbled his order down on a piece of paper, before sending it flying, in the form of a paper plane, towards the bar. "I'm guessing it doesn't have half the juicy details."

"No." Sirius said, putting his drink down with a _clack_ , "It doesn't"

James nodded, having expected that, "So I'm assuming you do?"

"I do." Sirius nodded.

"Being the new head of Black Family alone means I'm entitled to details about it, being an Auror just adds to it." Sirius commented.

"Ok, so what can you tell me?" James asked.

"She had help," Sirius answered.

His friend's eyes narrowed. "What kind of help?"

"The magical kind." Sirius responded, "She used black magic to help her escape."

"I was under the impression you couldn't use magic in Azkaban," James said with a quirked brow.

Sirius shook his head, "That's what most people think. Truth is, they just check your wand before you ever get there. Without a wand, most magic becomes all but impossible for most people. The Dementors take away what's left of your ability by sucking out your will to live."

"So there's nothing to solidly prevent anyone from casting magic inside?" James summarized.

"Yes."

"That seems like a problem." James pointed out.

"Until Bella, it never was." Sirius countered.

"Congratulations, it managed to stop all but the most deranged, talented, and violent witch there's been in centuries," James said with an acidic smirk,

"Good job."

Sirius huffed. As much as he was glad his friend could joke again, he wished it wasn't so caustic or jabbing. "The point is, she used a powerful and ancient Black Magic ritual to help her get out."

"What did it do?" James asked

"Some kind of summoning circle?" He guessed, "For a demon, perhaps?"

Sirius shook his head, "No, it was a ritual to infuse her with the strength of others. Basically, she took in the essence and power of seven other men, including her husband and brother in law."

"So…now she has the strength of eight men?"

"Something like that." Sirius nodded.

"Well that's just bloody fantastic," James said, exasperated as he leaned back in his chair, "So your psychotic and powerful cousin just got several times more powerful."

"Yes," Sirius pursed his lips, "She did."

James frowned, "What's wrong?"

Sirius thought about it for a moment, parsing the idea through his mind as he tried to solidify it, "….Bellatrix…has never really been one for rituals and runes. She was always too impatient."

"…you don't think she did this?" He guessed.

"No," Sirius shook his head, "I don't"

"I think someone _else_ broke into the prison to use the ritual on her and break her out." He said, explaining his theory.

James nodded in agreement silently, his mind turning inwards as he spun theories and thoughts about why this was all happening, and any way to change it. As he pondered these revelations his food arrived. A simple order of shepherd's pie and a pint.

"How are things for you?" Sirius asked as James began to cut into his meal.

James made a noncommittal humming sound as he took his first bite.

"Seeing anyone?" He teased with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

James smiled, easily seeing through his attempt, but decided to humor him. Despite that, there was a pain in his eyes as he said: "No, I'm afraid."

"You know she'd want to move on, don't you?" Sirius said, bringing up an old argument. "She'd hate to see you like this."

James chuckled, "Yeah, Lily probably would."

But he still smiled. It looked like a normal smile, his lips turned upwards, his eyes crinkled ever so, all the lines on his face aligned in such a way to seemingly take years off his face. And yet, despite that, it seemed to accentuate the scar on his face. Something dangerous gleamed in those eyes.

"But I can't stop."

It was a smile he didn't like seeing on his friend's face, but it was one he was seeing far too often.

"Doesn't mean you can't find someone." Sirius continued, pressing the issue good-naturedly, "They do say the best revenge on your enemies is to live well."

"You think I could live well, knowing that that _**traitor**_ is out there?" James said with that same smile.

It was times like this that Sirius knew

"You could move on?"

Deep down.

"I can never move on."

That inside James.

"You could multitask, you seem to be good at that."

Something critical to the man he was.

"Not worth the risk."

Something critical to the light in his soul.

"What risk?"

Something critical to his own humanity

"The risk of my existence."

Was _**B**_ _ **ro**_ _K_ **e** _ **N**_

"Face it, Sirius, I'm a shattered shell of a human being." James sighed, putting down his fork. "I'm a ticking time bomb."

"And I refuse to draw another person into my doomed path." He added, wiping his mouth. "You know what they say."

"Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves." He quoted easily. "I've dug mine."

"I refuse to dig a third's"

* * *

**Back at the Castle**

_Wizards are weird_ She decided.

Her father had instructed her to begin reading some history books on wizarding Britain, something he seemed to be quite proud of.

At least, until the last couple centuries, anyways. More recent practices have made him all but ashamed of his country.

_And it's easy to see why_ She frowned as she looked over earlier practices as opposed to more recent ones.

He admired the pride, the strength, the cunning, and the ingenuity that Britain had in the days of Merlin and the founders. While Hogwarts was hardly the first magical school, it was still a pioneer, nonetheless, and it was a beacon on a hill for the rest of the world.

And that's what Tom Riddle wanted to do. He wanted to make Britain that beacon again, he wanted to restore its greatness.

It was plain to see to anyone who wasn't blind or in denial that Britain had declined drastically, both in the magical and mundane. It was once a great empire spanning the world. Now it was just a small dreary island nation. It still had power, it still had weight, but was more cultural than actual productivity or intimidation.

_At least, that's what father says._ She concedes,

_But Father is a very wise person._ She nodded to herself, _father knows what he's doing_

… _I still want to see Hogwarts_ She admitted, _and I am kinda hungry_

She was pulled from said thoughts when her body suddenly decided to act gravity was merely a suggestion from an overbearing parent.

She cried out in surprise, flailing her legs in the air for a moment, helplessly, as her arms fumbled with the book in her hands.

As suddenly as it started, a pair of lithe arms wrapped around her chest from behind, before gravity reasserted itself and she fell into a warm and waiting lap. Looking up to see the source of the long strands of foreign black hair now tickling her cheeks, she saw a familiar face.

"Aunty Bella!" She cried, her face lighting up in gleeful surprise.

Bellatrix, herself, beamed down at the young girl, proud that she remembered, "Lily!"

"What are you doing here?" She asked, curiosity pulling her mind far from thoughts on the book.

"The meeting got out early. Looks like people have gotten more competent since I've been gone." Then she paused, considering something.

"…Or the dumb and weak ones were simply weeded out or died."

She shrugged, "Either or."

Lilith nodded. Made sense to her.

Granted, she never saw the original Death Eaters, or at least doesn't remember doing so, but she's more than willing to take Bella's word for it.

"What'd you- _Cough!_ "She was about to say.

She was abruptly interrupted by a fit of violent and hoarse coughing. Bellatrix cringed, panicking as Lilith hacked up blood into the crook of her elbow. "Lily!"

"I-I'm fine." She attempted to say, blood still dripping from her mouth.

Bellatrix responded by pulling Lilith closer to her body, practically smothering Lilith in her arms. Lilith reflexively leaned into the warmth of the woman's body, feeling comforted by her trusted presence. "No, you're not."

Looking down at the girl, violet met emerald, "What did the greasy man say was wrong?"

"The greasy man?" the girl repeated, confused, "Do you mean uncle Snape?"

"Why does he get to be called uncle?" Bellatrix all but whined.

"Uh, well, you wanted me to call you aunty Bella, I thought it made sense," Lilith admitted,

"Greasy man doesn't deserve to be called uncle." Bellatrix frowned.

"Wha-? But he's nice." She defended.

"He's the reason you're hurt." Bellatrix pointed out.

"He didn't mean it, it was an accident." Lilith countered.

Bella snorted derisively, "That doesn't excuse him."

"Well, I like him." Lilith stated adamantly, "He's nice to me."

"He's the reason I'm alive at all." She added on a more somber note, "For as long as it lasts, anyway."

There was a moment of heavy silence as the dark thoughts of impending death and pain weighed upon their minds. Lilith instinctively curled up as she feared the undeniable pain and risk of a premature end, and Bellatrix responded by holding her ever tighter.

"…Did he say what was wrong?" Bellatrix asked, needing to know, even if it wouldn't do any good.

Lilith nodded slowly after a pause, "…He said it was because my body is somewhere between living and dead, but not like fathers"

"Some parts want to work like I'm still alive and others don't. Between all of that, some parts of me just aren't finished." She explained, "My body still needs lungs, but they're sick and bleeding. My body still wants blood, but my heart is weak and small."

"But uncle Lucius and father said my mind was sharp and spongy!" She chirped, cheering herself up.

"Spongy?" Bella said with a quirked head, confused as to how that would be a good thing.

"Or maybe it was wet?" Lilith considered

"Whatever," She shook her head, "something about soaking sponges."

"Point is I'm smart!" She declared with frustrated but resolute expression worn upon a small and adorable face.

Bella grinned, ruffling the girl's hair fondly, against her squeals of protest, "Yes you are."

"Oh!" She perked up, remembering something.

"Father said you've seen a lot of blood and insides."

Bella blinked.

Then she _smiled_ ,

"Yes, your dearest Aunty Bella has seen a _lot_ of insides."

Lilith nodded seriously in satisfaction, "Good."

She took a moment to wriggle out of Bellatrix's arms before making her way over to a cabinet. Pulling out several sheets of paper, she returned to the bemused witch.

"I wanted to make some pictures of stuff not in my memories." Lilith began to explain.

"But it's harder to make up images that never happened." She pouted.

"So you wanted my help in drawing them?" Bella guessed.

"Mhm." She nodded with absolute certainty, "Making all the gooey bits is harder than I thought."

Bellatrix Black positively beamed at the opportunity to instruct a girl so precious and important to her dear master.

It helped the girl was cute, in her own special way.

Her lips pulled apart to display her sterling white teeth, her face arranged in a grin the likes of which her enemies saw in only their worst nightmares. An expression on her face that made many a witch and wizard break down into tears and pitiful begging were brandished before a girl of only six.

"I'd be _happy_ to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, given the responses I got from the last chapter, I've decided that I will, in fact, go with the long road, in which I fully flesh out Tommy and Lily's murderous world tour.
> 
> We also got our first look at the other major change I've made, which is that James is alive. So's Sirius as a result of James being not an asshole or an idiot.
> 
> I'm not going to lie, I've taken some inspiration from batman with James. Batman's far from my only reference with him, but he's the one that comes to mind first and by far the most iconic.
> 
> Just don't expect him to start running around in a bat costume.
> 
> To be honest, I'm worried about dialogue with them. I'm sure it's something I'll get better and more comfortable with the more I write them, but at present, I'm having trouble figuring out how exactly to characterize them.
> 
> I suppose it's more like I know what I want to do, but I'm trying to get that to align with canon. With James, it's a touch easier since he's supposed to be dead and there isn't much to conflict with, but with Sirius, he's supposed to be the more jovial sort, right? And while that may still be true, I don't want to just have him be a happy go lucky idiot, and most of the scenes that involve him are going to be those of the more serious sort. Scenes where he wouldn't just be making jokes and slinging around puns.
> 
> But on the other hand, maybe he would? In a desperate attempt to lighten the mood or something?
> 
> Plus there's the general way in which they'd speak in general. I'm not really one for nicknames so I'm not really sure how much to use their nicknames or how much not to.
> 
> Again, I'm sure it's something I'll get better at the more I write them, but at the moment...I suppose you could say it's a work in progress.
> 
> Then there's the problem with making them sound British as opposed to American, which is a whole other problem. It's related, but it's more cultural than me trying to figure out how to write their characters.
> 
> Regardless, as you can see, James is not going to be some pompous asshole you can hate, and we're going to be seeing more of his story during the world tour as we cut back England on occasion. He's not the central aspect of the plot, so I won't just focus on him all the time, but his story is important, especially for the part where we finally get to Hogwarts.
> 
> On one final note, the name of the castle. I haven't given it a name yet, and I've only recently realized "Oh shit, it kind of needs a name"
> 
> So I'm going to try and come up with one. At present I'm thinking the original name was in something...else...but was roughly translated to be one of the following:
> 
> Dream Eater Keep.
> 
> Dead Silver Temple
> 
> Star of Darkness.
> 
> Or it could have a super long name and people just call it "that weird ass evil castle that I'm pretty sure eats souls."
> 
> Or, I guess, you guys could come up with an idea. If I like it, I'll use it. But at present, those are my best ideas.


	6. Chapter 6: Rewind

**6 years ago**

_So this…is victory?_

She looked over the burning scene and repressed a sigh

_Then why does it feel so bitter?_

Sure, the war proper had stopped with Voldemort's death. But in his last breath of his organization he had sown perhaps more chaos and confusion than he did while the war was still raging. Half of magical Britain seemed to be either covered in blood or flames, many parts spilling into muggle Britain. The Prime Minister and the Queen were far from happy, but the one responsible for all this mess was dead. Not even in some heroic fashion in which they could properly raise up a hero. Instead they had a martyr.

A Martyr and her beloved grieving father.

"Madam Bones!" One of her Aurors called out for her.

"Simmons?" She responded, turning to the young man running up to her.

"There's, uh, a, uh, person that entered the scene." He said awkwardly

She gave him a look that told him _exactly_ how much she appreciated his vague and unhelpful interruption.

"I-it's, uh, Mr. Potter, Ma'am." He clarified, "He decided he wanted to h-have a look himself."

"Of course he did." She sighed.

"Alright, I'll see to it." She said, waving him off, "Dismissed, Simmons."

"T-thank you ma'am" He nodded before scurrying off.

She walked over the rubble covering the street, her back to the flames still blazing in the night. Moving past her red-robed Aurors she stopped before a pair attempting to hold back Mr. Potter.

"Sir, this is DMLE matter, go back to your home," Redback said, trying to talk the man down.

Mr. Potter was, unsurprisingly, not happy. He wasn't as angry as she thought he might have been, but he was far from amused. He wore a heavy frown upon his tired face. He seemed to understand what was happening, but not care in the slightest.

In most cases, this would have annoyed her. She was used to dealing with noble pure-bloods trying to muscle their way through things just because they thought they were better. James Potter, however, was not one of these people.

Madam Bones liked to think she was a good judge of character. That, and Mr. Potter was far from being a reclusive figure. He was a well-known Light siding Wizard, one of Dumbledore's closest allies, and far from the conventional ideas of what a noble pure-blood wizard should be.

So it wasn't arrogance she saw in him. He didn't think he was above them and could do what he wanted.

Oh no.

Madam Bones wasn't quite sure what it was. She could guess. It wouldn't be too hard considering all that had happened. There was a rage in there. Unsurprising, really. But it was beyond that. It was beyond the apathy, the casual disregard for protocol and procedure.

But she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Mr. Potter." She called out.

His head jerked to her, meeting her light blue eyes with his own hazel pair. "Madam Bones."

It was unnerving, she had to admit, to hear a man that was once so jovial and bright carry such a serious and heavy tone in his voice. There wasn't an inch of room in it for a joke or even a stray remark.

"I'm told you wanted to see the scene?" She asked.

He nodded, "Pettigrew was our secret keeper, and, we _thought_ , a trusted friend."

"I'll be able to provide insight you and your Aurors wouldn't"

She frowned, not exactly liking what he was implying, but unable to deny the truth of it. Even if Pettigrew had betrayed them, Mr. Potter and his associates knew Pettigrew more than anyone else living could rightly claim to.

"…very well, Mr. Potter." She finally said, weighing the merits of sticking closely to protocol and actually getting results. "But you _will_ tell us everything you see."

"Am I clear?"

"Perfectly." He said with a smile that didn't come close to reaching his eyes.

Nodding, she accepted his word. Mr. Potter might have been many things, but he was a man of his word.

Leading him back to the primary scene, she stopped atop the largest piece of rubble, giving them a good overview of the whole area.

"…why are the fires still burning?" He asked, referring to the towering flames blanketing the area, casting a bright, flickering, light upon the whole area. "Shouldn't you have snuffed them out by now?"

"We would, normally, but these are not ordinary flames." She answered, "We aren't exactly sure what he did yet, but best we can tell Pettigrew cast some bastardized version of Fiendfyre to cause the explosion, resulting in these flames."

"The reason they look more…ordinary…than typical Fiend Fyre, we're assuming, is that Pettigrew either intended this effect or was not strong enough to summon _true_ Fiend Fyre."

"Hmm." Potter hummed, in thought, rubbing his chin, "I'd guess a combination of the two."

"Really?" She said, quirking a brow.

"Wormtail wasn't particularly strong, but he _was_ crafty at figuring out how to twist things to his advantage. If I had to guess, I'd say that he couldn't make use _true_ Fiend Fyre, but managed to put together this more…subtle…version." He explained.

"Subtle?" She questioned with a raised brow, gesturing to the undeniable devastation and roaring flames.

"True." He nodded, " _But_ , you didn't realize how dangerous and unusual the flames themselves are until you gave it a closer look, did you?"

She frowned but nodded.

"Which means if he uses it again you probably wouldn't realize it was different from some other fiery or explosive spell until later when you couldn't easily control fire. By then, it could catch you by surprise, spreading farther, killing more people, sowing more chaos." He pointed out.

"I see your point," She said, waving him off.

"Still…something doesn't sit right with me." She frowned.

"Oh?"

"Well, I had assumed it was a botched attempt at Fiendfyre, one that backfired and killed him as well." She elaborated, "But you make it sound like he practiced and refined this, that he knew _exactly_ what he was doing."

At this, Mr. Potter chuckled, of all things. "Oh, I have no doubt that there was panic in there."

"But old Wormtail knew what he was doing when he cast that spell." He said with that same smile, "It didn't backfire, he _wanted_ this to happen."

"You make it sound like he's not dead."

"Oh, make no mistake, he's alive." The man remarked, "That rat was far too much of a coward to have killed himself."

She raised a brow at that, "You don't think he was secretly a fanatic?"

"Oh no." He said with a laugh without joy, "He did this because he was scared. He always was something of a coward, a follower."

"I just thought he was loyal, too." He said, his smile gaining a bitter tone.

For a brief moment, Madam Bones considered the idea of attempting to comfort him. A feeling of human empathy, that want to help someone hurting, and James Potter was oh so obviously hurting.

But she steeled herself immediately. She knew the last thing he wanted was sympathy. He'd undoubtedly have plenty of that from the rest of the world.

"So how do you think he got out of this?" She asked instead. "He was, by all accounts, at more or less the center of the explosion. Even is the blast didn't kill him, he still would have been surrounded by fire, and Sirius would have seen him attempt to leave."

Mr. Potter himself nodded at that, seeing her point.

He gave a careful look over the whole area, eyeing everything in sight.

Then she saw it, the widening of his eyes, the straightening of his back, the sudden intake of breath.

He had figured it out.

"Mr. Potter?" She said, trying to pull him out of his musings.

"The grates." He murmured.

"The grates?" she questioned.

"Yes, the grates." He said, pointing to the metal grates in the street. "They lead to the sewer, and with the recent rain it was probably full of water."

"Are…you saying he jumped _into_ the sewer to escape the flames?" She asked, "But how?"

Mr. Potter glanced at her. His lips pursed and his brow furrowed ever so slightly like he was considering how much to tell her.

Just as she was about to press, he opened his mouth.

"Peter is an unregistered animagus" He finally said.

She blinked

"He's a _What!?_ "

"He can turn into a rat." He said instead, continuing on. "He could have easily slid through the grate, falling into the sewer below. From there, he'd probably be able to swim through it all."

Then he snorted, "Rats…are surprisingly tough little buggers."

"I…see." She drew out, her mind racing with the possibilities as she tried to consider how to track down and contain a man who could become a rat, of all things.

"…and the rest of you?" She said, giving Mr. Potter a careful look.

He shrugged.

She frowned but decided not to press the issue.

Not now, anyways.

She had bigger problems than dealing with potentially three unregistered, but otherwise law-abiding, Wizards.

Especially when there was another far more dangerous one on the loose.

Finally, she sighed, "Dammit all."

She turned back to him, looking the man in the eye, "You realize this whole mess just got ten times more complicated, right?"

"Knowing what I do now? I'd say that's an understatement." He remarked.

She didn't want to admit that he had a point.

* * *

**5 Years ago**

_What a mess_

It seemed that the information that James Potter had provided about Peter Pettigrew had panned out. Months later there were occasional sightings of the man. Eventually, they tracked him down to a certain magical district in Liverpool. They had laid a trap for him, luring him into a false sense of security, before launching a full-scale ambush on the warehouse a deal he was making took place.

They had underestimated his paranoia.

As a result, now four city blocks were engulfed in flames, five Aurors under her command were dead, another eight were severely injured, and worst of all, Pettigrew had gotten away without even a hint as to where he had gone.

"Damn it all." She cursed under breath as first responders moved in and out.

_Mr. Potter had said he was paranoid and crafty, but I didn't think it went_ _**this** _ _far._

"Well, this is unfortunate."

Speak of the devil.

"Mr. Potter." She frowned, turning around to meet him.

The man in question was standing behind her, hands in his long coat's pockets. The flickering flames reflected in his glasses, hiding his eyes from sight. All in all, it gave him an unnerving and disturbingly still air.

"Madam Bones."

"I was kind of rooting for you guys, you know?" he remarked with a straight face.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Potter?" she questioned. "This DMLE business, you have no right to be here."

"Ah!" He perked up, raising a hand from his pocket, "Actually, that's where you're wrong."

"Partially, at least," He added on, seeing her scowl.

"I am, am I?" She said, folding her arms across her chest.

"Yes, you see, I did some digging, and it turns out that there are some special laws in place for oath-breakers as well as Ancient and Noble families, especially when they are related." He said with far too much cheer.

And all the while, those burning flames remained in his glasses.

"Are there, now?" She said skeptically.

"Long story short, as the head of the Ancient and Noble House Potter, I have the right to exact personal justice upon the breaker of an oath to the family as I see fit. Should I fail, no additional crimes will come to the oath-breaker for killing me." He explained,

"But! At the same time, I get to do whatever I want to them. I am judge, jury, and executioner to that particular person who betrayed my family." He grinned, "I even get your help."

"What." She said flatly, her displeasure made readily apparent.

"Oh yes, you see, I paid a visit to the new Minister, Fudge? We shared some words, he shared some sympathy, and in the end, he let me have this letter." He said, pulling out a piece of parchment from his coat.

"I think you'll find it very interesting." He said, holding it out to her.

Her frown continued to deepen as she took it from him. As she read the page, it developed into an outright scowl, before ending in resignation.

"I see." She huffed, rubbing her brow

It contained all the flowery bullshit she had come to expect from Fudge, but she was slowly being able to decipher the truth at the heart of it. In the end, it was…unexpected, but she can't say she was truly surprised.

"So, in essence, the DMLE has to cooperate you in this investigation." She summarized.

"Yes." He smiled, "Don't worry, you aren't subservient to me or anything, but you can't really tell me what to do, and you have to tell me everything you know."

"But I'm a fair guy, I'll tell you guys what I know." He conceded.

"Will you, now?" She questioned skeptically.

"Probably." He shrugged.

She let out an explosive sigh.

"Just…don't get in our way, Mr. Potter." She warned him, "And don't do anything stupid.

"I wouldn't dream of it." He beamed.

 _Well_ She conceded, trying to look on the bright side of all of this

_At least he isn't a complete arsehole._

* * *

**Tom Pov**

"Say, Lucius."

"Hm?"

"What do you know about the laws regarding laying claim to abandoned houses?" I asked as I looked over the book in my hands.

The book itself was actually about Vampire Clans across the world. It was general, but it would give me a basic sense of the global state of affairs for them.

The question itself just crossed my mind as I read over a passage regarding a few lines that seemed to have died out.

"Well…" He began, leaning back in his own chair.

"I know quite a bit." He confessed, "But there's a dizzying amount to know. It would help if I had a better idea of what to look for, rather than a broad overview."

In short, Lucius was politely saying _"What do you want?"_

"I'm considering attempting to reclaim the Slytherin line," I admitted

"Ah." He nodded, "That makes things a bit tricky."

"Unlike some lines, the Slytherin one is a line that would be closely watched. As you no doubt gathered, should you reclaim it, it would make headlines. You might be able to suppress it for a short time, but I have little doubt that the worms festering throughout the ministry and media would dig it out eventually."

"Now, that's blatantly obvious. Less so are the problems resulting from this. Of course, there would be problems with doubters, people who would denounce you." Then he smirked, "Perhaps a few calling you a dark lord."

"Well we wouldn't want that," I said dryly, taking a sip of my black tea.

"Beyond that, you would face the issue of the increased scrutiny you would face. Suddenly you go from being some unknown wizard to someone on everyone's list. And I mean everyone. You wouldn't just have to watch out for Dumbledore and the Light, but also for all the media hounds who want find the next big scoop for the man who brought the fabled Slytherin line back." He said on a more serious note.

"Is there a way to avoid that?" I asked

Lucius pursed his lips for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought, "A few."

"…I would suggest perhaps reclaiming you birthright in another country. If you do so in a country where the founders are less prominent, they will make less of a big deal of it. If you play to the goblins properly, then they won't let it spill either."

Then he sighed, taking a sip of his own drink, "I don't much fancy the filthy little things, but they don't much like us either. They probably wouldn't be too eager to go spilling your secrets to the Ministry, especially if you make it worth their while."

I hummed in thought, agreeing with him on that. They had their uses, but most goblins tended to be greedy and dreadful creatures. Not that humans weren't, but goblins seemed to make it their moral code, instead of at least attempting to be better.

It was a deplorable thing, indeed.

Complacency.

Truly, the most sinister of plagues.

"How hard would it be to make myself the head of the house?" I asked

"That's a bit more complicated," Lucius admitted. "You could prove that you _are_ , in fact, the successor of the line and take it up, reviving it. But at the same time, the law is a tricky thing. You need a line to be the head of, in order to head it."

"So…?"

"You would need more than one person to be admitted to the line to actually properly head it." Lucius simplified.

"And why wouldn't I just automatically be the head of the line?" I asked, "I understand that I can't, but I'm not sure what sense that makes."

"Well part of that is likely because you don't know what all becoming the head of a line means for oneself," Lucius answered.

Holding up a hand to stop my glare at his implied insult, he continued, "I'm not saying you are truly ignorant, my lord. It is simply something that isn't usually brought up or an issue unless you are in a prominent line."

"For example." Lucius began, gesturing to himself, "As the head of my own house, I have to deal with various marriage contracts, properties, treaties, and even my own family. I know where each and every one of them are, save for if they are in a warded area. Even then, I know of their last unshielded location. In truth, most places have wards sufficient enough to block it, but it still gives me a general idea of what they're doing."

"In general the idea is that the head of the house manages and represents the line in full." He simplified.

"This is difficult to do when there are no people to manage."

"Now." He started, "If the line in question was low in prominence or didn't end that long ago, then this would be less of an issue."

"As it is, it's likely the case that the only thing that you would have to lay claim over would be the properties. The Slytherin line has been dead for quite a while."

I took another sip of my tea as I rolled that information over in my mind.

"What about Black?" I asked, "Is he not the head of his house?"

"He is, but his house is technically still alive, even if most of the people in it don't wear the name Black." He explained.

"And Potter?" I questioned.

"He's a different case then yours. His house is, in effect, dying. It's losing people, but it's still established. As a result, he's still the head, even if the rest of the house has rotten." Lucius answered, "You, on the other hand, would be trying to resurrect a house. Legally, it's two different things. Related, but different."

I hummed again, thinking things through. Then after sifting through all the information given to me, I slid forward a proposition.

"What if I had an heir?"

At that, Lucius gave me a proper smile. The smile of the pale devil.

"Why, then you'd have a line to lead, wouldn't you?"

I chuckled, taking another sip of the tea. It was strong, just the way I liked it. It sent my mind alight with each delectable taste. Grounding me and giving the energy to properly center myself and think.

"So would she even work?" I asked. "She isn't technically my blood, after all."

"She is now." He said casually.

I blinked,

"Explain," I ordered with narrowed eyes.

"Severus could give you the details, but in short, you're both related now," Lucius explained, taking another sip from his own cup. "As I understand it, you were both made from the same blood pool, meaning you both literally carry some of the same blood through you. Beyond that, you're technically the same species now."

"In addition, the blood pool fashioned your bodies together based on your souls, correct?"

I nodded slowly, thinking I could see where this was going.

"And since the two of your souls affected each other, it affected how your bodies turned out." He supplied, "Obviously you affected her far more than she you, and as a result, you've had quite the impact on her physical, mental, and spiritual self."

I frowned, thinking things over.

"So is she still technically a Potter?"

"I'm not sure." Lucius confessed with a helpless shrug, "You'd have to see Severus to discover the details on dear Lilith's body and all her bloodlines."

I hummed again, my fingers tapping against the hardwood desk.

"I see," I muttered, distracted by my thoughts about how best to use this.

Obviously, I would be making Lilith my official heir.

 _Or is it heiress?_ I idly wondered with a stray thought.

_Better question, does it matter?_

Pushing that to the side with ease I refocused on the more pressing issue. Which was, of course, how?

"Does that help?" Lucius said, pulling me from my thoughts for a moment.

"It does," I replied, giving him something of a polite smile

I couldn't make it official, not now, not to the whole world. Instead, I would do it slowly, build it up piece by piece.

Voldemort was dead, and Tom Marvelo Riddle with him. Now I needed to be a new person.

I needed to build up a new persona to do build up this new foundation. Something I can eventually use in a more public setting.

In truth, discarding that old persona wasn't terribly hard. I created Voldemort in the first place because I wanted to be more than Tom Riddle. And, in hindsight, I'm…not quite ashamed, but definitely concerned about my actions as Voldemort. Namely my sanity.

 _What_ _ **was**_ _I thinking when I gave up this hair?_ I wondered, idly combing a hand through my black locks.

They weren't terribly long, certainly nowhere near Lucius's length, but I was fond of their presence nonetheless.

Regardless, I had the opportunity to start…well, not exactly fresh, but approach things from a new angle.

It was a rare opportunity, I didn't dare assume I'd get another. Not for some time at least. And assuming I'd have second chances when none were assured was a fool's gambit. Granted, so was dabbling in the darkest of soul magics and assuming all would be well, but hey, live and learn, right?

As for this persona…, I'd have to be careful in crafting it.

I'd need the more public aspect of it to appeal to the Light side. At the very least make it so they find it less suspicious. It'd need to be able to support the existence of Lilith, as well as explain my own body's quirks as well as my activities and travels. Behind that, of course, would have to be my true self.

Whatever that was these days.

Pushing my existential thoughts into a dark corner of my mind to address later, I looked up at my Left Hand.

"Lucius," I began

"What does the Ministry know of foreign wizards?"

* * *

**Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle**

"Hey, uncle Snape?"

The man in question startled, jolting up from his workstation. In his reaction, he fumbled with the glass beaker in his hands. After a small moment of panic, he quickly regained control of the beaker, sighing in relief, before turning to the source.

He found a pair of glowing emerald inquisitive eyes staring back at him, with pale grey hands pulling up the head of the girl they belonged to. Her eyes were wide with worry, by far the most expressive part of her.

"Are ok, uncle Snape?" She asked

"Yes, Lilith," He sighed, "I am fine."

"Do be more careful when I am working on my potions and ingredients." He admonished.

"Sorry." She all but whispered, her eyes flitting down in shame, but her tone filled with genuine remorse.

Looking at the girl like this, Severus found it hard to be truly mad at her.

"It's fine." He relented, "So long as you make sure to never do it again."

At that, she nodded seriously as if she had just sworn the most important oath in her own little world.

"Just…" he began, rubbing his brow tiredly, "What did you want?"

"Um…" She glanced away, her fingers drumming against the hard wood of the table she was peeking over.

The were currently in what was the castle's primary Brewing workshop. To be frank, the infrastructure here was a Potion Master's dream. It had the magical works needed to facilitate both Alchemy, Potion making, and, in general, anything that requires rare and delicate ingredients being mixed into some kind of solution.

The space itself was enormous, easily the size of muggle gymnasiums. From there, however, it was broken down into several sections. Most sections were walled off from one another, but not isolated to the degree that other proper "rooms" in the castle were. The largest sections were High- and Low-Risk Mixing, Cooking, and Brewing along with Storage, Pacification, and Reset.

The High-Risk areas were frankly ingenious if a bit disturbing. They allowed one to brew in relative safety works that, if done incorrectly, could result in significant danger. In some cases even brewing it properly could be dangerous. They featured things such as specific enhancements to gather up and contain fumes in isolated containers, fire suppression runes, acid resistance enchantments, explosion suppression runes, _implosion_ suppression runes, time containment runes, an emergency portkey to the Pacification room, and most importantly, a connection with Reset.

The disturbing part came from the fact that this place would _need_ all these things to begin with.

While Severus was an officially recognized Potion's Master, the fact was, he knew of precious few Brews that could cause Implosions

There were multiple stands and burners for solutions, ranging from being sized for small beakers leading all the way uo to large cauldrons. Vast tables of unusual strength to hold ingredients big and small. Despite their strength, he could see all the little marks in them. The tiny nicks and pockmarks. The scars of a well-used area dotted the room, painting the picture of a well-practiced master delving into even the most dangerous, volatile, and exotic recipes.

It was like a tapestry showing a hidden history that seemed to give this room a true level of life.

This wasn't just an imitation, for Severus.

This wasn't merely a perfect room for Brewing.

This was the workshop of a _**Legend**_.

One who might have been all but forgotten to time.

Working here inspired Severus to reach new heights, to dare to do things that he would have frightfully pulled a hand away from otherwise. He sought to fill the lofty heights of excellence these ghosts spoke of.

Maybe one day he'd do it.

But for now, he had another issue.

"Could you tell me about mother?" Lilith finally asked.

Severus blinked, surprised by the question.

 _Though,_ he realized, _I suppose I shouldn't be_.

"You might want to ask our Lord about that." Severus hedged, not sure he wanted to dredge up the past anymore. Especially in the light of recent...complications.

"I did." she answered simply.

"You did?" He repeated, all but stunned.

"Mhm." She nodded, "He said she was, 'admittedly, a worthy adversary, and a clever if infuriating woman'."

"He also said that you knew more about her."

"Ah." He replied haltingly, "I see."

He took a breath, rubbing his face with his hand as he gathered his wits.

"Lily...your mother…" He began slowly, painfully wading back into that pool filled with ghosts. "Was a beautiful, wonderful woman. She was smart as a whip, brilliant, even, but had a vindictive streak a mile wide."

"In many ways her fiery personality matched her fiery hair.

"Her...hair?" She repeated, a question on her lips as she tilted her head to the side ever so slightly.

"Yes," He breathed, a pang of pain in his heart as he recalled those long locks. "It was a bright splash of color that always seemed to brighten up the room. It was fierce and defiant as if it refused to be suppressed by the grim normalcy of the rest of the world."

"Oh…" She said, almost mournful, twirling her own pitch black locks in her fingers.

He frowned, pursing his lips.

"…What do you remember about her?" He began, trying to switch gears.

"Nothing." She replied without hesitation.

He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

"I…see." He frowned.

This was turning out to be a bit more complicated than he had anticipated.

And he had not anticipated a walk in the park.

He sighed again, trying to rework his whole approach.

"You might not have her hair, but you have her inquisitive emerald eyes." He pointed out.

"I do?" She said, sounding almost surprised

"Oh yes, those beautiful eyes of her almost always held equal parts curiosity and mystery. She always seemed to know more than those around her, but it never seemed to be enough." He exclaimed, falling back on those treasured memories.

"…huh." She said, gazing at her reflection in the sheen of a polished knife left on the table.

Severus momentarily wondered if he should be worried about it.

He quickly brushed it off.

"So…" He began awkwardly, unsure of how to properly communicate with children, "Were you hoping to try and connect with your mother?"

She gave him an odd look, one he wasn't entirely sure how to interpret.

"No?"

"No?" He repeated, unsure what to make of her response.

She shrugged, "She sounded like an interesting woman. Father sounded very interested in her, like she was one of the few people he'd consider being on his level. He almost sounded disappointed that he had to kill her."

 _I wonder if he loved her too._ He frowned.

"Huh?" She said flatly

Severus then realized he might have spoken those thoughts out loud, "Er, never mind."

She frowned, but moved on, "Since she sounded so impressive, I wanted to know if you could tell me more about her. And…" She trailed off.

"And if you were anything like her?" He guessed.

Her eyes widened ever so slightly before nodding emphatically.

In that moment, Severus was able to put some of the pieces together. Certainly not the whole puzzle, he was far from that being that clever when it came to how people worked. Still, he wasn't blind.

Lilith well and truly respected his Lord. He wasn't quite sure if he'd call it love. But, as any child might, she sought to make her father proud, to be worthy of their parents.

Just as her mother was.

And in that moment, his face cracked into a broken smile. It was small and it was far from beautiful, many would even venture to call it a smirk.

But it was there.

Because while he didn't know for sure whether or not he'd like the child, he knew one thing.

_It looks like Lily will live on after all_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back
> 
> For more flashback shenanigans, Evil plotting, and character interactions
> 
> Yay
> 
> In all seriousness, however, the big old journey across the world is getting set to go. This first part will be...well...it kind of depends on your definition of the first part of the trip, but either way it's not happening next chapter. We have one last person that we need a one on one with Lilith.
> 
> So yes, next chapter we get to see Lucius and Lilith.
> 
> That should be interesting.
> 
> Also maybe explosions.
> 
> Maybe.
> 
> Still, it's nice being able to keep to a schedule.
> 
> As for Madam Amelia Bones...I'm not too sure what her actual character in canon is other than the competent head of the DMLE. Granted, that's a lofty title for someone in the HP universe, being both competent and in charge of something.
> 
> Still, if I'm portraying her out of character...
> 
> Oops?
> 
> I'm not apologizing. If it's way off it's too late for me to do anything about it, I already have where I want her more or less dialed in. If it's just off the mark, though, I'd be ok with some tips here or there to guide it more on course.
> 
> But, again, I've more or less got her where I want her. It's not like she's a hard character to write. The lack of depth of her canon persona for me has made it really easy for me to flesh out a one that I felt fit the mold of canon, and I can enjoy writing.
> 
> Not to mention, it's just not a hard characterization to write.
> 
> In any case, I hope to keep up this pace, hopefully up it, but I make no promises on that.
> 
> Either way, bye for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I said I was new to HP FF writing, right? Well, I'm also not the most knowledgeable person on it. Which is why I got Dan's help on this.
> 
> So, I mean, if I fucked up with someone's personality or something somewhere, whoops.
> 
> Tell me and I'll fix it.
> 
> Or I'll say "Fuck it" and not, because I don't feel like being 100% accurate to the smallest detail.
> 
> I mean, hell, it's already nearly AU anyway. And it's Fanfiction anyway.
> 
> But as you can see, Voldy is still a good old twisted fuck.
> 
> I also decided to try and keep with my own tone, and make things more visceral and gruesome.
> 
> In HP in general, the "bad" people tend to just sling around Crucio and AK's around like it's going out of style.
> 
> But that's kind of boring.
> 
> I mean, Crucio?
> 
> Flick your wand at someone and make them fall to the ground writhing in pain from some red spell?
> 
> Meh.
> 
> That's not very relatable. You look at that and think, "I'd imagine he's in some terrible pain."
> 
> But, if you show someone slowly break every bone in a man's hand before crushing their eyeballs with some fancy TK magic, well I find that that's a lot more relatable. You can more easily understand and empathize with that kind of pain, which is what I'm going for.
> 
> So Voldy, or Tom, is going to be more hands on. I'll say his time as an orphan was less sheltered and more "Grew up on the streets", which is what helps set him apart from other wizards.
> 
> I also must confess that I got a lot of inspiration from both FMA and Penny Dreadful. Not enough to be a crossover, just themes and idea.


End file.
